A Smutty Collection
by Corey B. Carter
Summary: This is a collection of Smut scenes from various authors and fanfictions. ALL credits go to the writes- this is for MY pleasure and all of yours; I gain nothing that the author should. These will range from ones from long Fictions or one-shots. I will always include the Story title and Chapter it can be found from, with a link at thr bottom...Enjoy!
1. It Started In The Hallway- Chapter 2

A few nights later, just after Ron's birthday, Draco kidnapped Harry and took him to one of Hogwarts' smaller towers.

"Is this the part where you kill me?" Harry asked in feigned fear as Draco stopped at the bottom of the staircase that led up to the roof.

"Believe me, I could think of smarter ways to kill you than in the middle of our school. I just want to show you something."

He took Harry's hand and pulled the man after him.

Draco hadn't underestimated the effect that tonight's full moon had on the view. They could see the lake from this tower, reflecting the stars above it. Far away, the Forbidden Forest looked intimidatingly dark, trees moving when a breeze caught them. Next to them, the towers of Hogwarts stood in all their ancient beauty.

"Amazing," Harry breathed out. "How did you find this spot?"

"During sixth year I'd come here to think."

They settled onto the tiles, huddled close together.

"What, Malfoy, is this not too romantic for you?" Harry attempted to sneer but in Draco's eyes it still looked rather endearing than anything else.

"Don't worry; I have a plan to leave no doubt about how unromantic this actually is."

"Really?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

Draco shifted, climbing over Harry's legs and straddled his hips. He set a leisurely pace and felt Harry's cock respond immediately.

The Boy Who Lived To Cause Him Orgasms gasped. "Only you would turn a romantic night at full moon into a shag."

Draco leaned forward and captured Harry's bottom lip between his and sucked hard. Harry's lips parted and he surged forward, almost sitting up now, claiming Draco's mouth. His hands found their way under Draco's shirt and he shivered at the touch of skin to skin. His hips stuttered for a brief moment.

Harry abandoned his mouth and moved down to his neck, biting Draco's collar bone and the sensation went right to his groin. He couldn't hold back a groan and sped up, shifting slightly in Harry's lap to adjust the angle.

Harry's hand came round his back and stoked down his spine until it reached the rim of his trousers. Draco's breath hitched as Harry slid his hand further down, a finger ghosting over his perineum.

"Fuck, Harry," Draco shouted and Harry all but growled.

"I want to try something, Draco," Harry murmured in his ear, breath hot against his neck. All he could do was nod and be glad for the concealment charm he'd cast as Harry turned him around so that Draco was resting on his stomach.

With a swirl of his wand, Draco's clothes were gone and the cold night air hit him.

"Do you want me to freeze to death?"

"Sorry, hold on!" A noise told him that Harry was rummaging through his pockets and a second later, he heard the crack of a friendly fire and the air heated immediately.

"Now, Potter, proceed," he whined, only too aware that his hard-on was pressing against the roof of the tower.

"Don't worry," Harry said and Draco could hear his smirk.

His partner bent over Draco and ran his hands up his flanks, and a full-body shiver cursed through Draco. Harry had shed his clothes as well and the press of his chest against his back felt so incredibly good….

Draco gasped when he felt Harry's tongue against his skin. The man traced Draco's spine, licking and kissing, his hands ghosting over the sensitive skin just beneath Draco's ribs.

Lower and lower Harry's tongue travelled until, teasingly slow, it slid between Draco's cheeks. The wet tip circled his perineum, promising so much but not yet entering and Harry kept it up so long that Draco whined against the arm his head was resting on.

He could feel Harry's smile but the Boy Who Lived spread his cheeks and slipped his tongue into Draco, twisted it, pulled it out and pushed back in. It didn't take long until Draco was pushing back in raw need for more, more of Harry inside him. Harry pulled out but then his lips were back, sucking and for a moment, Draco saw white.

"Harry!"

The man in question chuckled against his arse before his lips were back, taking turns with the tongue to torment Draco, who could feel a known tightness in his groin and was suddenly aware of the sounds he was making, gasping and cursing and moaning around Harry's tongue and of the moonlight and of Harry's fingernails digging into his hips and with a purely animalistic moan, he came, seeing stars.

It was one of the most intense orgasms he had ever had.

When his brain was able to process his environment again, Draco's eyes fell on Harry who was sitting close by, watching him with dark eyes, pupils blown, right hand slowly moving up and down his cock.

With a growl Draco crawled over to his partner and pushed his hand away. Harry raised his eyebrows in question but Draco merely put his hands on Harry's shoulders and eased him to the ground.

"I will ride you until you forget your own name," he whispered in Harry's ear.

All Harry could do was breathe in sharply as Draco took Harry's cock, lined himself up and lowered himself down slowly, antagonising slowly. Green eyes widened and then fluttered closed when he was sheathed in Draco.

The sensation was incredible. Harry's tongue had barely stretched Draco enough and it hurt, but it was the kind of pleasurable pain. Then, he started moving and Harry shuddered under him, and all pain was soon forgotten when Draco found the right angle and hit his prostate.

He cried out and felt his cock fill again. He set a brutal rhythm that had his partner gasp and moan obscenely, pumping his own erection in rhythm with his hips moving up and down.

The sweat on Harry's skin shone in the moon light form above and Draco wondered how his come would look on Harry's chest as the man under him began to jerk up, unable to restrain himself anymore.

It didn't take long and Draco came for the second time that night, shooting all over Harry's chest, semen almost glowing in the light and mere seconds later, he felt the orgasm rip through Harry like a storm, Draco's name on his lips.

Draco collapsed in a bundle of boneless flesh. Showing Harry this place had been a very good idea.

(archiveofourown(.)org)/works/826326/chapters/1588527

 _All credits to the author, the Story and Chapter is all in the Title._ _Just remove the brackets, not what is IN them, I had to include them to paste the link._


	2. It Started In The Hallway-Part III: 7

_More Fluff and Story-based Smut than Full-on Details. At Hermione and Ron's Wedding._

Harry chuckled and looked back at the dance floor. Theo was looking down now, Seamus' mouth was slightly open and the intensity of their gaze carried all the way to Harry.

He held his breath and could feel Draco sneer next to him.

Then, slowly, Seamus leaned up, tipped his head back, and met Theo's lips. The man stilled and for a second, Harry feared he'd flee the sight. Then, however, Theo kissed back.

Harry released the breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

"You're the spitting image of a swooning school girl, Potter."

"Says the matchmaker, Malfoy," Harry shot back but he was blushing nonetheless.

Draco put his glass down and wound his other arm around Harry's body, pressing them together from groin to chest. Which was not a very decent position to be in, Harry noted.

"Well, I find your romantic side quite endearing." With that, Draco rolled his hips and Harry had to use every ounce of discipline he owned to stop the moan trying to escape his throat.

"Wh-what are you doing, Draco?"

The blonde leaned in even closer, brushing his lips against the skin of Harry's neck, sending a shiver down and up Harry's spine.

"I'd love to suck you off, Harry," Draco whispered into his ear and Harry had to bite his lip. He felt his pants getting tighter. "And then I want you to fuck me as fast as you can."

Draco leaned back, gave Harry another smouldering look, and stepped past him.

Foolishly happy and already embarrassingly much aroused, Harry followed Draco past the tent, the house and down the hill towards the broom shed. Once inside, the blond threw Harry against the closed door and fell to his knees as graceful as only Draco could, opening his fly.

"You realise that Ron and Hermione won't ever let us forget this if they find our, right?" Harry whispered as Draco palmed his quickly hardening cock.

"And yet you followed me." A look down confirmed Harry's suspicion – Draco was smirking. When he caught Harry watching, he licked the wet tip of his cock and Harry's breath hitched.

Draco continued teasing, licking along the shaft, sucking the balls into his mouth, making Harry moan.

"Patience, Potter. I said I wanted you to fuck me, any premature orgasm would be counterproductive."

Before Harry could reply, Draco swallowed him down until he felt his cock hitting the back of Draco's throat.

It took all his self-control not to come when the man in front of him opened his pants and performed the lubrication and protective spells while sucking Harry off.

As soon as Draco was finished, Harry pulled him off, retrieved his wand and got rid of their clothes. A few movements was all it took and he had Draco pressed against the door, his legs hooked around Harry's waist, his penis leaving a trail of precome on Harry's stomach.

When he was sure Draco was pressed hard enough against the door, Harry's hand slid down to align himself and he pushed forward in one, hard thrust that had Draco crying out.

"You said as fast as I can, didn't you?" Harry mumbled against the skin of Draco's neck.

His partner made a strangled noise in the back of his throat that told Harry he was hitting Draco's prostate with every movement, so he doubled his speed, licking across Draco's chest, chasing the scars and playing with his nipples.

The blond came incredibly fast between their bodies, clenching around Harry's cock buried deep within him which was enough to send Harry over the edge.

They stayed there for a long time, leaning against each other, breathing in the smell of sex and broom shed.

XXX

https(/)archiveofourown(.)org/works/826326/chapters/1697430

All credits to the author, the Story and Chapter is all in the Title. Just remove the brackets, not what is IN them, I had to include them to paste the link.


	3. In The Mirror, Darkly (MULTIPLE Chapters

_Slytherin!Dark!Fifth-Year!Harry. Harry is best friends and was raised with Draco after being raped (Which leads him to be quite dominate) by Vernon and brought an Orphanage, but then Lucius took him in. Enjoy! Credits to author..._ On Sunday afternoon, Draco stormed into the Slytherin common room. It was deserted aside from Harry. His housemates were all outside or in the library. They knew better than to disturb him.

"Harry, how dare you!"

"What do you mean?" Harry calmly put down his textbook.

"Don't give me that look, Harry. It may work on your professors but not on me. It was you!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Pansy! She has a terrible rash and blisters, just like the ones in the book we found in our library."

"What is your point?"

"That you cursed her! With dark magic! Madam Pomfrey isn't even sure if she will be able to reverse the effects!"

"So?"

Draco groaned, frustrated. "So? Harry, she's my girlfriend! Why did you do it?"

"She's not worth your attention."

Draco paused. "You mean to say that you cursed her because you don't approve?"

"Yes."

"It's none of your bloody business!"

"Yes, it is."

"Harry, what I'm doing in my private life doesn't concern you."

"It does when it makes you ignore me."

Draco's eyes widened. "You're jealous because I'm spending more time with her than with you," he stated flatly.

Harry knew better than to deflect.

"Unbelievable! That coming from The Boy Who Redefines Promiscuity! So what am I supposed to do, according to your Highness?"

Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest and Harry rose from his chair. Defensive. Draco always got defensive when it came to Harry's exploits.

"Break up with her. Spend your time with me again."

"Harry, you don't understand. I like being with her."

"All you ever do is snog because she can't stimulate you intellectually."

Draco spluttered but caught himself quickly, gesturing wildly. "That's rich coming from you! All you ever do is snog and more, you never talk with-"

 **(IT BEGINS)**

"Draco."

His best friend stopped dead. Whenever Harry used that tone, everyone stopped. That's why everyone always flocked around him. That tone spoke of power.

Harry advanced and Draco instinctively took a step back. His back hit the armrest of the chair by the fire.

"Listen to me very carefully, Draco. I know more about kissing and sex than all our classmates combined. And I know you." He watched Draco swallow hard. "I know what you want. What you need. Pansy wants you to be in control but you have no idea how."

Draco laughed and it was a shrill sound that only proved all of Harry's theories.

"Image someone holding you down, claiming your lips in a rough kiss, pressing you into the mattress with their body and you can barely move but then there's a hand around your cock and hands all over your body…" Draco's eyes fluttered. His pupils were dilated when Harry reached him. He stopped, faces inches apart. He could feel Draco's breath against his lips. "Look at me and tell me that's not what you want."

Draco opened his eyes and he shuddered when he saw Harry was so close.

"Harry," he breathed and swallowed.

"You have to say it, Draco."

The grey eyes darkened when they found Harry's again.

"Please."

It was all Harry had needed. He closed the distance between them and pressed his body against Draco's, who gripped the chair for support. Harry rolled his hips and Draco moaned, throwing his head back.

Harry's mouth was on his throat in an instant, all lips and teeth and his hands covered Draco's, pinning him to the chair. He pulled back and pressed his erection against Draco's, finally capturing those lips between his own. He sucked on the bottom lip while his right hand travelled up Draco's side and the blond gasped at the touch, opening his mouth just enough for Harry's tongue to slip in.

Draco melted against him, just like Harry had known he would. Draco had been watching Harry for months.

His hand opened Draco's belt and his trousers and he reached inside. When his fingers closed around Draco, his hips buckled and he had to hold on to Harry for support, never breaking the kiss. Harry set a fierce pace and he was rewarded with the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes one: Draco wrapped up in pleasure and ecstasy, coming with an animalistic moan all over Harry's hand.

Draco's head fell to his shoulder while the blond was recovering. It didn't take long until Draco opened his eyes, drawn to the bulge in Harry's crotch.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, self-conscious.

"I want you to suck me off," Harry whispered in Draco's ear which earned him a full-body shiver.

Draco reversed their positions, pressed his body against Harry's and slid down until he was on his knees, glancing up. Harry had to restrain himself or he would come from the sight alone. Draco released him and gave him an experimental lick. Harry's body jerked at the touch, so Draco did it again and again, focussing on the head. He sucked it into his mouth and Harry's eyes rolled back from the pleasure it caused him.

Draco slid his lips down the shaft and drew back again at a glacial, antagonising pace. He was loving every second of kneeling in front of Harry.

"Faster," Harry commanded and Draco obeyed without a second thought, one hand at the base of Harry's cock, mouth working furiously.

"Touch my balls," he ordered and closed his eyes at the sensation. He could feel his orgasm building but didn't warn Draco. He wanted him to swallow every last drop.

With Draco's name on his lips, Harry came down Draco's throat. The blond coughed but quickly recovered, grinning up from the floor at Harry.

"I had no idea," Draco mumbled in awe.

Harry had never felt more powerful in his life.)/works/890818/chapters/1787356

 _Warning!BDSM Dom!Harry Sub!Draco_

Draco cocked his head and walked back towards the wall. "But enough of the history lesson, Potter. Chain me to the wall and take me."

"You're awfully cocky today."

As if to prove Harry's point, Draco swung his wand and was instantly stripped, his cock already leaking.

With a growl, Harry lunged at the blond, bound his wrist and feet with magic, turned him around so the rope was cutting into his wrists and spread his legs. Within seconds Harry was naked and didn't waste any time before he lined himself up and pushed in. Draco's scream of pain turned into a moan when Harry hit his prostate. They knew each other inside and out and Harry knew where Draco's buttons were.

And Draco knew Harry's so when the tears threatened to fall from the pain of being slammed into a stone wall, Draco let them. Harry's fingernails dug deep into his lover's sides, drawing blood and Draco screamed.

"Please…. Harry…"

"Are you begging me to touch you?"

A soft "Yes," was all Draco was still capable off and it was perfect. Harry stepped back and pulled Draco's arse after him. A few more thrusts before he finally took mercy and wrapped his fingers around Draco's cock. He rubbed his hand over tip, smearing the pre-come and relished the whine that had escaped Draco's throat.

"Don't come yet," Harry ordered and watched Draco bite his lip. Harry's teeth marked his shoulder and he increased the pace, entry now eased by the blood he was drawing with his movements.

"Harry", Draco moaned, desperate for release which Harry wouldn't grant him yet.

"No."

The full-body shiver Draco answered the order with was enough to send Harry over the edge and he clung to Draco's back, riding out the waves of orgasm.

He pulled out and saw just how rough he had been. Draco must be hard as a rock.

"Please, Harry…" The blond was hanging in the ropes, almost too weak to support his body. Harry drew closer.

"Look at me." Draco turned his head to where the voice was coming from, pupils wide and eyes far gone in the realms of pain and pleasure. Harry caressed his cheek with a bloodied hand. "You can come now, Draco."

With a cry, he did.)/ _works/890818/chapters/1810231_

 _All credits to the author, the Story and Chapter is all in the Title. Just remove the brackets, not what is IN them, I had to include them to paste the link._


	4. In A Mirror, Darkly II: Chapter 3

_Slytherin!Dark!Harry Continued! The story has moved on though- this scene is about him admitting his feeling to Draco._ He apparated straight to his house, and, ignoring the memories of another Grimmauld Place 12, went to look for Draco.

He found him in the master bedroom, propped up against the headboard, reading a book, which he quickly discarded once he caught sight of Harry in the doorway.

Draco jumped out of bed and stood in front of him half a second later, wearing nothing but black briefs that stood out hard against his pale skin. He made for a beautiful sight and Harry took it in with greedy sweeps of his eyes.

"What happened? Is everything alright? Why are you smiling?" Draco asked, frowning slightly.

"Voldemort and I have reached an agreement concerning our future cooperation. I will be granted more authority from now on."

Draco's frown turned into a grin. "Good. It's time he recognised you for all you truly are."

"It's time I recognise you for all you truly are," Harry muttered, only aware of what he had said after the words had already rolled off his tongue.

Draco's eyes widened, clearly unsure about how to interpret the statement. The last thing Harry wanted to do was scare Draco away, not after he had just spent almost two days in another universe where everything was just plain wrong.

So Harry stepped forward, bringing their bodies so close together that they were almost touching. He looked deep into Draco's eyes before he leaned in and kissed him softly.

They had never kissed like this, without any trace of tongue; their kisses had always been forceful, driven, even the few lazy snogging sessions on Sunday mornings.

Harry felt Draco's whole body shiver before the blond pressed his body into Harry's and brought in arms up around him, pulling him close.

For the first time in his life, Harry allowed himself to experience all the feelings behind their kisses and it was so intense it almost overwhelmed him. He was instantly hard and felt Draco's erection pressing against his hips through the layers of Draco's briefs and Harry's robes.

They parted, both breathing heavily. Draco's pupils were blown, the black almost swallowing the grey entirely. The next thing Harry knew was that Draco slid to his knees, hands coming down to rest on Harry's belt, looking up with the most open expression Harry had ever seen on him.

For a moment it seemed as if Draco was about to say something, something Harry wasn't sure he was ready to hear let alone respond to in kind, but Draco closed his mouth before the words could get out.

Instead, he opened Harry's belt and fly, pulled his trousers and pants down and freed his throbbing erection. Harry could even see the precome he was already leaking.

Draco placed a kiss on the tip, which sent a jolt through Harry.

Draco looked up and their eyes locked. "Take me, Harry," he breathed out. "Use me. I'm yours."

He opened his mouth and closed it around Harry's cock, hands on his arse urging him forward and Harry took, oh, how he took. He didn't hold back, tightening his grip in Draco's hair. He didn't hold back one bit, not when he hit the back of Draco's throat with more force than he ever had, making the blond choke on his length as he pulled out and thrust back in again and again until there were tears in Draco's eyes. Draco took all Harry had to give him and moaned around his cock, swallowed him down like he was craving it and he probably was.

"I want to fuck you, Draco," Harry gasped between thrusts. "I want to tear you apart and put you back together."

His grip on Draco's hair eased and the blond slipped off, mouth bruised and red and wet from precome and saliva. He leaned back on his heels presenting his hard cock and lean body.

"Do it. Please."

The please did Harry in. He lunged forward, gripping Draco's shoulders tight and lifted him off the ground. He basically threw him onto the bed, face down.

Without warning, he was on Draco, hand stroking his hole just long enough for the lubrication spell to work and then he thrust in, without preparing Draco further.

Draco cried out but after a moment the sound of pain gave way to one of pleasure as Harry set a brutal rhythm, hitting Draco's prostate every time. Draco gripped the sheets so tight his knuckles turned white, his body limp, completely surrendered to Harry.

He gripped Draco's hips tight enough to bruise as he increased his pace while leaning forward, sinking his teeth into the expanse of pale skin on Draco's shoulder.

This time, it was a cry of pure pain that left Draco, but Harry knew he liked it, craved it, even.

Draco's moans turned to whimpers; he was close.

"Never forget this, Draco," Harry growled in his ear. "You're mine."

Draco came with a cry, clenching around Harry's cock and the sensation was enough to send him over the edge within a few more thrusts.

He came for what felt like minutes, filling Draco up from the inside and when he pulled out he could see the semen trickling out of the fucked-out hole.

A flick of his hand and the sheets were clean again. Harry laid down next to Draco who turned around to face him. Harry would have expected him to be half asleep already, but his eyes were bright, though still a bit clouded in post-orgasmic haze.

Draco considered him for a moment, then drew a deep breath.

"Harry, I-"

"Shhh..." He had to cut him off. He had to. But when he saw the hurt flicker across Draco's features, Harry closed his eyes briefly, gathering the courage he needed for his next words.

"I know."

The shadow on Draco's face disappeared and he smiled the most sincere smile Harry and ever seen on him. The blond had never seemed more vulnerable, but Harry pulled him tight.

If there was one thing Harry was as scared of losing like Voldemort was scared of losing his Horcruxes, it was Draco.

And there was no use denying that.)

archiveo(fourown.)o(rg)(/works)/948109/chapters/1895606

All credits to the author, the Story and Chapter is all in the Title. Just remove the brackets, not what is IN them, I had to include them to paste the link.


	5. Different Worlds- Chapter 19

_Top!Harry Bottom!Draco..._ _Draco went to Durmstrang for the first 5 years of his education, but after his father's death, he goes to Hogwarts. This is Harry and his first time, and they are at Malfoy Manor for Christmas. Enjoy!_

Harry and Draco were soaking in a steaming hot bath in Draco's bathroom, which reminded Harry of the Prefect's bathroom at Hogwarts, only without the variety of taps along the tub.

"My arse is sore," Harry said dreamily as he laid back against the wall of the tub. Draco was leaning back against him and the two were holding hands under the water.

"You did really well though, Harry. I'm starting to think there's nothing you aren't good at, you prat. It took me a month to be able to stay upright in the saddle and you got it on your first day," he said, just as lazily as Harry.

Harry smiled and kissed the back of Draco's head. "That was a lot of fun. Your mum's horses are beautiful. That takes a lot out of you though, I'm bloody exhausted," he said, stifling a yawn.

Draco turned and pulled himself into Harry's lap. Suddenly, the air became charged as Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's waist and their bodies pressed together.

"Don't even think about getting out of it," he said, taking Harry's lower lip between his teeth and staring threateningly into his green eyes. Harry put a hand on the back of Draco's head and kissed him hard.

"I'm not trying to get out of anything," he said huskily as he cupped Draco's hips and pulled him even closer.

Draco hissed. "Out of here, now. I will wait no longer!" he declared dramatically as he moved off of Harry and out of the tub.

Harry followed him, trying hard to ignore the butterflies that were starting in his stomach. As if he were about to take a particularly difficult examination, he started to flick steps off in his mind, recalling as clearly as possible all the things he had read in Hermione's book the night before.

Draco had flung himself in the middle of the bed, flat on his back, wet and shamelessly naked. He looked at Harry and rolled his eyes.

"Harry, wipe that look of concentration off your face and get over here. You'll be fine. It's just sex, for Merlin's sake. There can't be that much that can go wrong," he ribbed the Gryffindor.

Harry crawled into bed and rested on top of Draco. "I know. Kiss me," he ordered. Draco did.

It was the first time the two of them had been completely alone in a room with no fear of interruptions or being caught. It was immensely liberating and both boys found themselves being louder and more bold than ever before. Draco dared to be more forward than he usually was as Harry seemed more comfortable here, and Harry did not object. They spent several minutes rolling around and kissing wildly, rubbing their naked bodies into one another with abandon.

When they both had become fully aroused, Harry rolled Draco on his back and looked down at him. "Roll over," he breathed.

Draco pouted. "No, Harry, I want to be able to see you when you do it," he said.

Harry smiled at him. "I'm not doing that yet. Just roll over, I want to try something. If you don't like it, just tell me," he said and kissed Draco's cheek.

Draco more than willingly flipped over, wondering excitedly what Harry was going to do. He became more intrigued than ever when Harry pulled his hips up slightly and pushed a pillow underneath them for support. He felt thrillingly exposed.

"What are you doing, Harry?" he gasped, already titillated beyond belief.

"You'll see," he teased as he began kissing the back of Draco's neck, his erection rubbing tantalizingly against Draco's arse cheeks.

Draco moaned longingly as Harry moved down his back, seeming to cover every inch with hot, wet kisses. He moved on to Draco's cheeks and nibbled at the tender fold where his bum became leg. Draco moaned and wriggled as Harry made his way back up, spreading Draco slightly with his hands.

Suddenly, Harry was nibbling lightly at Draco's perineum. The sensation was so overpowering that Draco stopped breathing.

"You okay?" Harry asked hoarsely.

"Uh-huh. Don't stop," Draco forced out of his constricted throat.

Harry went right back to what he was doing. Draco could feel his eyes rolling wildly in his head and was dimly aware that if he grasped the sheets any harder, he would very likely push his fingers through. He was stifling a yell that would make a banshee proud.

The yell broke free, however, as Harry firmly licked straight up to Draco's entry in one broad movement.

"You okay?" Harry asked again.

This time, Draco was unable to form words in response. Instead, he shook his head vigorously.

As usual with Harry, once he'd made his mind up to do a thing, he went at it full tilt. He reckoned that he was doing a fair job judging by the incoherent babbling that was coming from Draco, coupled with the occasional strangled combination of a moan and a sob. He felt Draco's body tense as if he were about to climax and stopped at once. This was greeted by a piteous moan from his blonde lover.

"Turn over, love," Harry said gently as he held himself above Draco. With much effort Draco managed, but he felt nearly unable to control his muscles anymore.

Harry smiled down at him. "Ready?" he asked sweetly.

Again, Draco just nodded vigorously, sure he would not be able to form the necessary words in response.

Harry kissed him gently but firmly before reaching for his wand, which he had stowed on the nightstand before crawling into bed.

"Hold out your hand," he said to Draco. Again with effort, Draco held up a slightly trembling palm. Harry said a quiet spell and a clear, viscous fluid poured from the end of wand into Draco's hand. Still being painstakingly gentle, he moved Draco's hand down to his own arousal and closed it around it.

Harry was being the picture of self restraint at the moment, but the feel of Draco's slick, strong hand encircling him briefly derailed him. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy the steady stroking before turning his attention back to the task at hand. Leaning his weight on one hand, he said the same spell and coated his fingers with the gel. Smiling at the desire in Draco's now dark eyes, he reached down and entered the blonde.

Draco gasped and succumbed to a full body shudder as Harry's fingers entered him and instantly began to stroke his prostate. He moaned loudly as Harry inserted another digit and started to tenderly stretch him in preparation.

Afraid that he would not be able to hold himself back much longer, Draco found his voice. "Now, Harry, please," he whimpered. He was almost relieved when he felt Harry's fingers withdraw.

Harry pulled Draco's knees up over his shoulders and positioned himself so that he would be driving straight down into the prone blonde as he had read he should. He took a deep breath and smiled at Draco. "Try to stay relaxed," he whispered. Ever so softly, he pushed forward into him.

Draco froze for a moment, then relaxed into Harry, enabling him to push forward a bit more. It wasn't painful so much as odd, Draco thought as he twined his fingers behind Harry's neck. After waiting a moment for Draco to adjust, Harry pushed forward again, burying himself fully inside.

He dropped his still damp head to Draco's chest, breathing harshly.

"Are you alright?" he asked between his deep breaths.

Draco couldn't help being a bit amused. Harry sounded like he had just run seventy miles.

"Yes, I'm fine. Are you alright?" he asked back.

"Yes, it's just, oh God, you feel so good," he whispered.

All of Draco's amusement fell away at once at Harry's words and he felt a fire erupt throughout his body. "Harry, move, please," he whispered back.

Harry withdrew only slightly and pushed back in. Both boys gasped in pleasure. A few more cautious moves and Harry began thrusting in earnest, still moving slowly so that every inch of him was felt by Draco as he moved in and out of him.

They went this way for several minutes, Harry fighting hard for control. His breathing became ragged and his muscles ached with restraint. He shifted their bodies and beneath him, Draco cried out.

"Alright?" was all Harry could manage to say. He slowed his movements further, afraid that he was hurting Draco, but could not seem to bring himself to stop.

Draco's eyes flew open. They were blazing with intensity. Without knowing it, Harry had angled them so that he was brushing Draco's prostate with every move.

"Harder, Harry. Oh Merlin, fuck me as hard as you can," he gasped.

Harry did not have to be told twice to do what he had been holding himself back from for the last several minutes. The room suddenly filled with the sounds of guttural grunts from both boys, as well as the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Draco had gone incoherent again and Harry didn't seem to be able to stop saying the blonde's name as he pounded into him again and again. He could feel himself moving closer and closer to the edge. Not wanting to come before Draco, he opened his eyes and tried to focus solely on his lover.

It didn't help at all. Draco was thrashing beneath him in a most erotic manner and digging his fingers into Harry's lower back in a most fetching way. Just when Harry thought he could not take another second, Draco started bucking beneath him and came forcefully, tightening around Harry almost painfully. Draco's unintelligible babbling was joined by Harry's calling out Draco's name.

Harry collapsed on top of Draco and Draco let his legs drop around Harry's waist. The two of them lay there panting for a long time before Harry finally spoke.

"That wasn't too bad was it?" he asked fondly.

Draco smacked his bum. "It was bloody amazing. I can't decide if I'm mad at you for not doing that to me sooner, or really pleased that you made me wait so we could be alone like this," he said with a laugh.

The two kissed sloppily and Harry tried to move out of Draco, but the blonde held him firmly in place. "Not yet," he whispered pleadingly.

Harry stayed put and they continued to kiss. Before he even realized what he was doing, Harry was gently moving into Draco again. When Draco groaned, he stopped abruptly.

"Sorry," he breathed.

Draco wrapped his legs more tightly around Harry. "Don't be. It's what I wanted all along. I don't ever want this to end," he said.

Harry smiled down at him-he felt exactly the same way. He took a second to revel in how utterly perfect it felt to be with Draco this way before he started moving again.

"I love you, Draco," he whispered, then mentally slapped himself. He had not wanted to tell Draco that while they were doing this, afraid that he might think Harry only said it because they were doing this.

His fears were short lived. "I love you, too, Harry. I've wanted to tell you for so long," he answered back. He pushed up into Harry, meeting his thrusts.

"You're going to be sore tomorrow," Harry teased, feeling a little dazed by what had just passed between the two of them.

Draco continued rocking together with him. "I can live with that as long as you don't stop," he said fiercely.

"I won't," Harry answered. They then fell silent and let their bodies say anything else that needed to be said.

 _All credits to the author, the Story and Chapter is all in the Title._


	6. Different Worlds - Chapter 21

_More Fluff than Smut- but I still wanted to include it...Top!Draco and Bottom!Harry with Narcissa walking in on them cuddling XD_

Draco and Harry were lying in an amiable heap, Draco sandwiched between Harry's legs, on the oversized couch in Draco's room, watching a movie about vampires. Harry had never seen it, but it was one of Draco's favorites, as he thought the two male leads were hot.

"Oh, Harry, watch! They nearly kiss at this part!" he enthused.

Harry tightened his arms around Draco in reply. They were wearing only their knickers and had been making out heatedly before Draco got involved in the movie. Harry would never say, but Draco's fascination with Muggle things almost matched Mr. Weasley's. Though he had several Muggle devices, such as the wide screen television, they were all run on magic as the Manor had never been modernized for electricity.

Harry watched Draco's face as he stared intently at the screen. There was a fire roaring in the grate, reflecting off his pale eyes. Harry reached out and brushed his fringe aside, then ran his fingertips along his cheekbone.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered to the blonde.

Draco tore his eyes away and smiled at Harry. "I know," he teased before kissing Harry lightly on the lips. Very slowly, he removed his glasses and laid them aside.

"You look very handsome with those specs on, but it's a shame they cover up your eyes," he said playfully as he ran his thumb over Harry's eyebrows. Harry grabbed his face and pulled him into a hungry kiss.

"Can we turn that off?" he asked the Slytherin breathlessly.

Draco smirked at him. He placed his elbows on either side of Harry's head and began to grind himself into the other boy. Harry gasped most appreciatively.

"Why? Got something better in mind?" Draco asked the panting Gryffindor. He pointed his wand at the television and it went dark at once.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at Draco seriously. He wrapped his legs around the blonde's slender waist and, using his feet, ripped off his boxers.

It was Draco who gasped this time and covered Harry's mouth with a sloppy wet kiss. He lifted up slightly as his hands worked frantically with Harry's boxers. Soon, there was nothing between them at all.

Harry tightened his legs around Draco's back as they rubbed their erections together more and more aggressively. Harry's hands were firmly grasping Draco's arse, while Draco ran his up and down the backs of Harry's legs.

After several minutes, Draco broke away from Harry's lips.

"Let's switch," he panted, trying to pull Harry's legs out from around him.

"Let's not," Harry panted back, pulling him down with his thighs.

Draco groaned and kissed him again. He tried to sit up, thinking Harry wanted him to sit on top of him.

"No," Harry breathed and pulled Draco to him once again.

Finally understanding what Harry wanted, Draco nearly stopped breathing. He had hoped this would happen eventually, but had not been expecting it so soon. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he leaned down and kissed Harry reverently.

"Are you sure, Harry? We don't have to. I'm perfectly fine with the way things are. I mean, we've only done it once," he joked as he brushed his fingers along Harry's lips.

Harry smiled up at Draco and pushed himself against Draco's arousal in invitation.

"I'm sure," he whispered to the blonde.

"Let's go to my bed," Draco said.

Harry just rolled his eyes at him. "No. Here, now. Please," Harry pleaded.

Draco prepared him, speaking loving words in his ear the entire time. He went slowly, waiting until Harry was once again gasping 'please' before he positioned himself. Locking eyes with Harry and kissing him sweetly, he moved inside him, inch by inch.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked.

Harry kissed him in reply and moved against him. Draco gasped into his mouth.

"I'll go slow," Draco promised as he started to move.

"You don't have to," Harry answered, burying his face in the crook between Draco's neck and shoulder. "I want this, I trust you," he said, breathing heavily.

Draco's chest swelled with love for the boy beneath him, so open and vulnerable to him. This more than anything pushed him closer to the edge. He wanted it to last forever, he was so in awe of how incredible it felt to be inside Harry. He felt powerful and powerless all at once, completely whole and happy.

"Harry," he whispered as he thrust in and out of the Gryffindor. Harry was responding beautifully, meeting each stroke and hanging on to Draco for dear life. Draco watched as he bit his bottom lip, eyes closed tightly, hands pushing Draco harder and deeper.

As things intensified, Harry threw one leg over the back of the sofa and wrapped the other higher around Draco's back, opening himself even more for the blonde. Draco stared down at him as he began stroking himself. The sight drove Draco mad, and he couldn't help but move faster and faster, Harry matching his rhythm with his hand.

Harry's head snapped back and he was coming, guttural moans interspersed with Draco's name spilling from his mouth. Unable to stand anymore, Draco dropped flat on top of Harry and emptied himself inside him.

Once he could breath normally again, Draco cupped Harry's face in his hands and kissed him tenderly.

"Was that good?" he whispered, unable to find his normal voice.

"Perfect," Harry answered.

The two stared at one another for a long time, stopping only to kiss and get more comfortable on the couch. They were dozing slightly when they heard the door to Draco's room open.

Narcissa was standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock. The two boys were lying side by side, facing one another, legs entwined. Quickly, but not quickly enough, Draco summoned a blanket from his bed and covered he and Harry.

"Hello mum," he said, irritation heavy in his voice. "Forget to knock?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think…" she stuttered. Harry had his face buried completely in Draco's chest. He wanted to crawl under a rock.

Trying to save the situation, Narcissa squared her shoulders and her face went blank, as if she had walked in on nothing more than Harry and Draco playing Exploding Snap.

"Yes, well, tea is ready if you'd like. It is four o'clock, after all," she said, eyes towards the ceiling. She turned on her heel and left the room.

Draco started giggling at once.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked, stomach churning madly.

"Well, it could've been worse. She could've come in while I was riding you like a horse," he answered cheerfully.

Harry looked mortified. "Draco!" he cried. "I'm never having sex again," he groaned before burying his face again.

"Oh yes you are. Tonight, in fact. It's my turn again," Draco said, running his hands through Harry's hair.

Harry laughed. "Fine, fine. Just make sure to lock the bloody door this time!"


	7. Vanilla - DancingGrimm

_This is just a Smutty, sensual Fanfic with and Oblivious!Draco and a Dom!Top!Harry. It builds up quite nicely and well- it begins with the odd Harry finding Draco to Kiss the hell out of him. Enjoy xx_

"…so fucking vanilla." Draco heard, and his attention snapped back to the common room, from wherever it had been, in time to see Pansy's sneer being directed across the room at Blaise's back. He had seen that look a thousand times, it felt like, and it never got any more endearing.

Blaise. Her ex boyfriend now, it would seem. And 'vanilla'. Not a word he has really considered outside of being a potion ingredient, or a flavour of ice cream. But he had some clue of what she meant by it, and was pleased he never gave her reason to direct it at him.

When they were together, for however brief a time it was, he did what she wanted. She was his first, and he liked the idea of being guided without her knowing that she was, well, taking his virginity. Not giving her any ammunition, because the sneer, though childish, was decidedly unpleasant.

So he had had sex with Pansy, or rather, not fought when she climbed on top of him and sat on his cock, wiggling around and squeaking, and then subtly and kindly broken up with her when it became clear that she wanted more in the way of…adventure. Had she been referring to something cerebral or geographical even, he would have had no problem. But she meant sexual adventure, and that meant getting found out. About the fact that he wasn't half as savvy as everyone thought he was.

If she had known, he would have been on the receiving end of that sneer, and the vanilla comment. Though, he thought, perhaps the latter would have been justified, as he hadn't ever really done anything…kinky. Was that the word? A word as good as any, he supposed. He had never had any real sexual experience with anyone but Pansy (though some of those snogging sessions with Marcus when they'd met up in the Easter holiday of Draco's sixth year had come close to qualifying) and that hadn't been, in any way, outside the realm of normal. Vanilla.

But just because he'd never done it, didn't mean he hadn't thought about it.

A great deal.

As often as possible, in fact. Like he'd been doing right there in the common room, before Pansy had snapped him out of it with her comment.

But it wasn't his possible 'kinkiness' that concerned him, although that was a concern. It was who it was aimed at. It really wouldn't do to be attracted to somebody that well known, particularly while they were still in school. Though the latter had become a minor concern of late, as they were all progressing well in their final year and their remedial classes, which were updating them after they had spent so much time fighting for their lives the previous term. And the former was gradually becoming less of an issue recently too, as Draco had learned from his head of house that he had become a 'celebrity orphan', as Snape had put it. So, not much of a concern there. But still, it…rankled.

Because, between his rather odd kinks and his lack of experience, he wouldn't stand a chance.

Draco remembered, with the peculiar mental clarity possessed necessarily by all spies, the final battle. Or rather, as the newspapers would have it, The Final Battle. Actually, if he were honest, he managed to miss a fair bit of it due to a rather long bout of Lucius-induced unconsciousness, followed by a great deal of rushing around and being yelled at by Auror Shacklebolt, which was enough to make anyone miss the little things. But he remembered one detail perfectly.

Amid flying curses and hexes, screamed spells and roared oaths, the dead dropping like rocks to the ground and the living desperately trying to keep their footing in the growing mess of corpses and blood, Harry Potter, faced with an armed and angry Death Eater, had done what no one had expected him to do.

He'd socked him in the mouth. And Draco dearly wanted to find out who had taught the boy how to throw a punch and send them chocolates, because it was perfect. He had watched the swing (left hand, the back of it towards him, fist tightly clenched and slim, tough arm muscles tensed and taught), heard the magnificent crunch as it connected (the bones and tendons in the back of the hand flexing slightly on impact) and seen Harry react after the enemy had dropped, flexing his fingers, making the almost-shiny skin on the back of his hand tighten again and again in a perfect tease.

And yes, it had done the job well, but Draco knew that functionality and beauty were not mutually exclusive, and if he hadn't known it, that punch would have proved it to him. God, those hands…

And that's where he was experiencing problems. Because he was fairly sure he had a…thing. About Harry Potter's hands, of all things.

He thought about them a lot, in terms of both functionality and beauty. The tension of strong sinew, the light touch of fingertips, the practiced perfection of the grip on his wand, the delicate waft of his fingers through the air as he gestured. It was gorgeous.

He was not going to kid himself, however, that he would ever be touched by those beautiful hands in the way he wanted. Because, if Harry Potter found out that a Malfoy had a hard on for his bloody hands, he would run a mile.

Life was not particularly fair, even on celebrity orphans.

Because of the frustration that his guilty little fixation caused, Draco had managed to keep his reputation of being a bit of a brat, even though he wasn't really trying any more. He was glad of the diminished numbers of Slytherin students, to his surprise, because it meant that he got his own room, and he could slam the door without running the risk of upsetting his dorm-mates. He'd been slamming it so much this term, he thought it may need to be replaced.

It was this frustrated misbehaviour that led to him actually getting in trouble with Professor Snape, for the first time in his life. The silly thing was, he really hadn't intended to make that gesture at anyone, even the Weasel, because he knew what it meant all too well. It had just happened. And the Professor had asked him, in those dangerous, cold tones, to apologise.

It had been half-hearted at best. At worst, probably inaudible. And he had refused to repeat himself just because the Weasel had failed to hear him. The Professor had heard him, and that was good enough for them both. It wasn't, however, good enough for Potter.

Draco had tarried after class, making a fuss of removing a number of objects from his bag in order to get the large NEWTS potions book in it, and then put it all back in, in order to gain the privacy to apologise properly to Professor Snape. Snape had accepted the apology as gracefully as ever, and solemnly informed Draco that he'd better sort out 'whatever it was' before he got in trouble.

And Draco, in all innocence, had left the classroom.

One would think one would remain safe doing such a simple thing, in such a school.

But no. Less than two steps outside the potions room, and his back was squashed against the stone wall, a heavy pressure against his ribs making him yelp and lose his breath in a loud rush. He heard the creak of the door inside the classroom that meant Snape had returned to his private quarters, meaning that he could expect no rescue there, and had turned to look at his attacker (expecting the Weasel, or maybe even Granger, who had really come into her own during combat) and was faced with Potter.

Harry Potter.

Who had those hands pressed against Draco's ribs, holding him in place.

"Now listen," Potter ground out, and Draco lost his breath all over again, as he heard the tension in that voice. "I am bloody sick of the way you treat Ron. He's a decent man, and on your side, and the sooner you come to terms with that the safer you are, you understand?"

Draco was very aware of Harry's size. He himself was taller, certainly. But Harry had put on muscle and gained a breadth in his shoulders and chest that made him look like a bludger would bounce right off him. It wasn't hard to be intimidated by him, especially if you'd seen the things he'd done in battle.

But Harry wasn't just threatening him. He was touching him. With the hands. Draco was in a quandary. At a loss, he simply nodded, knowing that he was too wide eyed, too shaky, for anything justifiable by Potter's threats.

And then the hands moved. Potter was still staring steadily into Draco's eyes, while the warm, heavy pressure of his hands slid down, off the ends of Draco's ribs, and onto the soft flesh of his stomach. The weather had been unseasonably warm recently, and Draco wore his robes open with only a shirt on underneath, so he could feel every contour of Harry's palms and fingers through the cotton, the fabric warming in the wake of the slow moving touch.

Harry's eyes were looking a little less angry now. They seemed more intense than anything, and Draco tried desperately to push down the surge of arousal that rushed through his body, because he had a feeling it would get him into terrible trouble.

Then the hands slid back up his chest, and slipped around to rest on his sides, a few inches under his armpits, and he stopped worrying about getting in trouble, because this was better by miles than Pansy's wiggling and squeaking and his nipples were hard and he could barely breathe.

He was pathetic.

But the hands, the hands were travelling again, the fingers spreading out as the palms tracked down his sides, pressing hard into the skinny, sinewy muscle of his flanks, and onto his bony hips, resting there, then tightening, resting and tightening. Draco had no idea what to do, and he wanted desperately to not be standing against a wall in the dungeon, being rubbed by Harry Potter. Even with the hands.

Then it escalated. Harry squeezed again and, at the same time, tugged gently, and Draco's hips shot forward, without any prompt from his brain. And he was supposed to be in control of things like that, because he was a spy and all, but then he really wasn't a spy anymore, was he. And he was allowed not to be in perfect control sometimes.

Like when those hands were gently rocking his hips back and forth, little loose arcs, so gentle that the rest of his body hardly moved at all, and Harry wasn't touching him anywhere else, but it was so hugely good that Draco couldn't stop a rather tragic little sound from escaping his mouth.

That made Harry smile, a subtle little shift of his lips that told so little while changing his face so much. And then the hands were gone, and Draco was slumped on the corridor floor, half on top of his school bag, wondering if he could actually get to his feet without hurting himself, considering the solidity and sensitivity of the erection he was now sporting.

Harry's steps sounded light, as he walked away.

Draco thought about that odd little smile a lot. He, (ahem), thought about it in bed, at night and in the morning. He thought about it while he was in the shower, and while he was in his room, supposedly doing homework. It really wasn't helping any.

He thought that maybe he was developing a…thing, another one in fact, about Harry Potter's mouth. It wasn't a spectacular mouth or anything. Rather ordinary in fact. The lips fairly full, but not so much that it would be noted. Smooth looking, in the right light. Pleasant when he smiled, equally so when he was concentrating on something, that strange half-scowl he adopted.

They were, however, a particularly nice colour. A soft, sugary pink. But Draco really had to stop himself thinking about that, because it inevitably led to imagining what that shade would look like in contrast to his own snowy-pale skin, and he became…distracted.

Also, it led to other things, which weren't just distracting, they were intriguing.

The sweat.

A rather unpleasant thing to get…excited about, certainly, but Draco was beginning to get the impression that Potter's purpose in life wasn't so much to defeat Voldemort, as to break through Draco's concepts of his own sexuality.

Because the sweat above Potter's lip when he had been flying for a long time, out in the mild, early spring sun, wrapped in the layers of a Quidditch uniform, looked positively delicious.

In a very literal way.

It had been at the game last Saturday, a simple friendly, played more for the entertainment of the players than for any points or spectators. Draco had been sitting in the stands and Harry had swept past, in hot pursuit, and the little glistening strip of sweat above his lip, in the little furrow under his nose, was imprinted in Draco's mind instantly, without conscious thought.

He thought about it a lot. It was dreadful. The last thing he needed was another damned kink.

It was the Tuesday after the match that things really began to get out of hand. Or at least, out of Draco's hands.

He had been studying in the library until quite a late hour. Not past curfew or anything, but late enough that he was the only one aside from Madame Pince in the library, and she had started to alternate glances at her watch with dirty looks in his direction.

So he had packed away his notes, checked out a few books that he wasn't done with yet, and headed off to finish his studies in peace. Sad, yes. But at least he wasn't thinking about Potter's hands. Or his mouth. Or anything else.

It was when he was walking through one of the quietest parts of the castle, the corridor that contained the charms classroom and several abandoned store rooms, the kind of place that caused people to make an effort to walk softly by dint of sheer atmosphere, that he was ambushed. Very gently, and not really maliciously, but ambushed all the same.

Harry Potter stepped out of the shadows and glared at him.

"What are you doing out here at this time of night?" He asked, his head boy badge glinting on his chest (because really, saving the world wasn't enough of an achievement for one lifetime).

"I'm going back to my dormitory. I was in the library." Draco made a show of checking his watch. "I'm not out after curfew. What's the problem?"

He had tried for his usual derisive tones, but the look on Harry's face told him he had failed. Or perhaps it was telling him something else. Because that gleeful expression, that slightly hard look in the green eyes, was terribly…interesting.

And then, once again, Draco's back was pressed against the wall, his bag fell to the ground with an echoing thump, and Harry was right there. The hands were back on him, and Draco, despite himself, was desperately hoping that this time they'd do something more than just wander up and down his rib cage.

But then, he really didn't care about the hands any more. Because there were lips involved. Soft as flower petals, warm and smooth, pressing lightly against his own, shifting slightly, in a way he couldn't quantify through touch alone, squashing and soothing, and it felt heavenly.

The hands were settled on his waist, fingertips pressing slightly into his flesh, holding him firmly against the wall as he was softly, sweetly kissed. Then Harry's mouth opened and his tongue swept slowly along Draco's lower lip, and that was it for soft and sweet.

Draco gasped and opened his own mouth, and Harry's tongue was inside in an instant, stroking and sliding and plunging, until Draco had to grab onto the wall behind him to keep his feet. And then the hands slid around to the small of his back, and he gave it up and grabbed onto Harry's shoulders.

He was sure that the wet sounds their kiss was making would alert Filch, or even worse, the other prefects to their whereabouts, but it seemed that the Gods, or whatever, were looking kindly on them, because nobody bothered them for all the long minutes they stood there kissing.

It was nearly too much. After all that thinking and dreaming and, well, okay, fantasising about such things, Draco really couldn't cope. His legs began to buckle and Harry was absolutely no help, simply holding him lightly about the waist as Draco sank to his backside on the floor, Harry breaking the kiss but keeping close, as he settled onto his knees in front of him.

Then the hands were gone from his waist, and Draco realised to his horror that his sprawled position made it very very clear that he was aroused, and surely he'd ruined it and Harry would go and tell all his little friends that Draco was a pervert. But then the hands were back, hooking under Draco's knees and lifting them, shifting them, to either side of Harry's waist, and Harry was leaning forward, sliding his own knees to either side of Draco's arse, under his thighs. And then the lips came back.

Oh, the lips were very nice. Very nice indeed, and Draco dearly wanted to say something of that nature out loud, but that would mean losing the lips, so he decided against it.

Eventually, though he had no idea precisely how much later, Harry pulled away, and got to his feet, leaving Draco sitting on the floor with his legs stretched seemingly all over the corridor.

"You ought to get back to your dorm. Curfew, y'know?" he said softly, and though he couldn't see properly through the shadows in the corridor, Draco got the impression he was smiling that little smile again.

"Yeah," he replied, and by the time he struggled to his feet, Harry was gone. Knowing that the other prefects would be doing their rounds by that time, Draco debated whether he should take his chances on walking through the main corridors, testing his knowledge of the castle's secret passages, or just running for it. Well, his current bamboozled condition ruled out the second, and his state of, ah, interest made running a rather unpleasant thought. So he walked it. And nobody bothered him.

That whole episode, though very pleasant, had made the whole issue all the more complicated. There really must be something wrong, Draco though to himself, because who on earth gets that excited about a kiss?

And he couldn't stop thinking about it. And thinking inevitably led to…other things. He was getting to bed a lot earlier than usual, but that was possibly the only good thing.

He would just have to avoid seeing Potter too much, that was the only way. The only way to avoid him finding out that Draco wasn't what so many people thought he was. And to avoid him freaking when he found out about all the…things. Kinks. Whatever.

So he (deep breath and get the word out) masturbated quite frequently, and was, to his astonishment, getting better at it. He had always thought there was only one standard to masturbating; you pulled it, you came, you went to sleep. But since getting his own room, Draco had found that privacy bred experimentation, at least in the case of wanking.

He had managed to get quite well acquainted with his balls, for a start. Who knew they could feel so nice? And after that milestone, he had begun to explore. The skin on his sides, in the small curve of his waist, was especially sensitive, as he should have realised after that first incident with Harry. The same for the insides of his thighs, particularly when treated with a very light touch. The soles of his feet were delightful, but touching them wasn't exactly effective when wanking unless one wished to contort oneself quite dramatically.

But the one that surprised him most, both by being unexpected and by the depth of pleasure discovered at a single touch, was his nipples. Just a little squeeze or press on them, and he was away. He could get hard from it. He wondered if he could come from it.

The trouble was, this was another of those damn things, wasn't it. Kinks, if you will. It wasn't normal, and Draco knew this. In his many adolescent conversations with the boys in his house (before the majority of them were killed or imprisoned) had contained no references to nipples. He'd always thought that girls were the only ones to enjoy…that. Pansy had certainly enjoyed it, if her grabbing his hands and clutching them to her bosoms during sex had been any indicator.

It wasn't like he was trying to be like everyone else. He was still a Malfoy, celebrity orphan or no, and thus a law unto himself. It was just a case of trying not to cultivate any habits that might scare off potential suitors. Or Harry.

Of course, thinking of Harry led to thinking of the kiss, which led to the need to masturbate. Which led to the desire to touch his nipples. So despite all the wanking, Draco was terribly frustrated.

He was glad of the match that Saturday, the better part of two weeks since the kiss (or, as Draco's libido had it, The Kiss), as it not only took his mind off the whole problem, it also meant that he was staying out of Harry's way on a day when most of the castle would be deserted. Let's see Harry sneak up on him and…touch him while he was two hundred feet off the ground on a broom, he thought to himself.

He spent most of the match trying to resist the urge to see if Harry was in the stands, and so missed the snitch, which was caught by the other seeker only fifteen minutes into the game. Thus Slytherin, for the first time in history, lost a match with no points. They had had to scrape together a team from the few remaining members of the house, two of them having never ridden a broom outside of Madame Hooch's lessons, and with Pansy of all people acting as keeper, so they really hadn't had much of a chance anyway, but still.

The Hufflepuffs.

The winning team were looking absolutely bewildered, as if they didn't know whether to celebrate their win, or ask for the results to be rechecked. Draco supposed that they really wouldn't know what to do, having won so rarely. Well, bully to them.

Having not spotted Harry, he was in something of a quandary; was he upset or pleased? He really couldn't tell, everything was so mixed up. He decided to get back to his dorm as quickly as possible, try to avoid unnecessary mingling with the Hufflepuffs, and bathe there. Maybe have a…think. Yes, a good plan.

Getting in to the Slytherin boys changing room, he was nearly knocked off his feet by Blaise, who was dragging what appeared to be a pair of jogging trousers on over his arms, while running out the door yelling Pansy's name. Draco didn't have time to glance and see if the love sick idiot was wearing his jacket as trousers. The only other boy in there (and on their team) was a nervous fourth year called Terrence, who was washing at the sink when Draco came in, and had finished dressing and was leaving by the time Draco had managed to get out of his rather revolting uniform.

He got completely undressed, enjoying the tickly feeling on his skin as his sweat dried in the mild room, and was eyeing the face cloth in his locker, pondering a quick wash, when he heard the external door creak open, and a muffled spell whispered. Slightly worried, he grabbed a clean pair of boxers and pulled them on, before seizing the rest of his clothes and ducking behind one of the shower partitions, from where he knew he would be able to see the internal door.

To his surprise, it was Harry who came in. The boy strolled casually into the centre of the room and assumed a posture of 'waiting', which was when Draco remembered the spell he'd heard and realised that Harry not only knew he was there, he knew he was alone.

Well, there was no way in Hell Draco was going to face Harry wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts and a nervous twitch, so he dragged his cotton shirt on over his shoulders and went for his trousers, before realising that he was holding a sheepskin jacket. Blaise had been wearing Draco's trousers, and managed to get his own trousers confused with his coat.

Blaise was a complete bastard.

Draco was considering his next manoeuvre, when Harry yelled his name, and he dropped the jacket with a loud whump.

"I know you're there, Draco. Just come out. I'm not going to hurt you."

Feeling like one of his Mother's bloody cats being coaxed out of a tree, Draco stepped out from behind the partition and prepared to face his fate. Which was smiling at him, that same relaxed, gleeful smile, which made Draco realise how noticeable it would be if he got excited while wearing those shorts.

Deciding to keep his distance, he walked over to the low bench in front of the lockers and sat down, before looking up at Harry, with what he hoped was a bland, inquisitive expression. Harry simply smiled, a little more softly this time, and came over to sit next to him.

"Shame about the match. Though you played well. Just the others, screwing it up, really."

"Thank you." Draco replied, and nearly kicked himself when he realised he'd almost stuttered it. "I didn't realise you'd been watching."

"As if I'd miss it." Harry said with a smile, and that…it felt very nice.

"I…I don't quite know what to say to you." Draco said honestly, and braced himself to be called wuss or something. But Harry just shrugged.

Leaned forward.

Kissed him. His slim, wiry arms curled around Draco's shoulders, pulling him to lean slightly against Harry's chest, and his own hands were clutching desperately at the t-shirt that Harry wore, fingers scrabbling to get at the warm skin underneath. He had un-tucked and lifted the shirt enough to get at just the barest teasing strip of skin underneath, when Harry pulled away from the kiss, and looked at him carefully.

Draco wondered what he could possibly have done wrong.

But; "You look good like that." Was all Harry said, and then he was holding the sides of Draco's open shirt in both fists so he couldn't lean away, and bending to kiss Draco's neck. Gently, almost too lightly at first, then harder, open mouthed kisses, sucking at the skin for the smallest moment before releasing and moving on to a different little patch.

And if Draco was just a little slow in realising that Harry was working his way down, he could surely be forgiven. He loved the slow stroke of that hot tongue over his Adams apple, the soft slurp of lips on his collar bone, and then Harry's grip on his shirt relaxed just enough for Harry to stretch his thumbs out and lightly stroke the skin in the shallow dips beneath Draco's pectorals, and Draco froze.

As Harry's tongue slid across his right nipple.

He hadn't been far off the mark in wondering if he could come from something like that. Right at that moment, it felt all too close. And his shorts really weren't cutting the mustard on the whole 'retaining dignity' front.

Harry glanced up at his face, and obviously liked whatever he found there, as he grinned lasciviously, and turned his head slightly, his body hunched on the bench, and rubbed the tip of his nose lightly across the width of Draco's solar plexus, nuzzling a little, until he reached the left one. Again that wet touch of tongue, just below his nipple this time, on the very edge of the gradually darkening pink of the areola, and sliding around and around it, never touching the nipple but feeling so so so good-

And it didn't just feel good; it looked perfect, Harry's liver-pink tongue, just the tip poking out from between those sugar-pink lips, shining a little in the low light of the changing rooms as it caressed the puckering skin, and Draco shot what felt like several pints of pre-cum into his freshly donned boxer shorts.

Then Harry's lips closed over his nipple, wet and hot, and Draco lost his control. He could barely get a breath enough in, and knew full well he was panting out loud, as Harry's lips gently suckled at his chest, squeezing and pulling, perfect.

When the warm mouth lifted away, Draco had to scrunch his eyes shut and try not to whimper, but then it was back, back on the right, sucking lightly again, and it made him realise, with a sweet little shock that made the small of his back break out in cold sweat, how chilly that nipple had been getting, wetted and then abandoned. Harry's mouth was like a furnace.

There was a slight hardness against the little bud, just briefly, and then again, and then teeth closed on it, just enough to squeeze without hurting, and then gone again, and Draco realised that he was making some strange, high keening noise and gripping Harry's shoulders in a way that would probably start to hurt him in a few moments. Collecting himself against another brush of teeth, Draco managed to loosen his grip a little, which Harry obviously felt, because after another little glance at Draco's face he opened his mouth a little wider, sucking the nipple into his mouth down to the areola, stretching the skin almost to the point of pain, and flickering his tongue against the very tip of it.

Draco groaned. His heart was pounding, his skin aching with the need for touch and he was sure he'd never in his life been so close to coming without actually spilling.

Then there was a thump of the door opening from the direction of the entrance, a brief sound of raised voices, and the thump of it closing again. Obviously whoever it was had decided to continue their argument outside rather than enter the changing room, but still. They weren't exactly private.

Harry sat up, slowly, licking his lips in a way that made Draco want to cry.

"I think we'd better go." Harry said quietly. "Maybe save this, ah, location for a day when it isn't so populated."

That meant it would happen again. Oddly enough, that notion didn't upset Draco half as much as he'd expected it to.

"Okay." He replied, equally softly. Harry leaned in to give him a chaste, closed-mouthed kiss, and got to his feet, straightening his t-shirt where Draco had been pulling on it. He then reached out and tugged the sides of Draco's shirt together, fastening one button in the middle, and then smoothing his palms lightly down Draco's chest, making him shiver.

"Have fun getting back to your room." Harry said with an almost affectionate smirk, and then he was through the door that led to the store room, and gone.

It wasn't until he was alone that Draco realised what he'd said. He was without trousers, and though the boxers could quite easily pass as athletic shorts, they didn't do anything to hide his…excitement, especially with the large, clinging wet patch. So he needed to find some trousers or something. His only other option was to wank, but with the risk of being walked in on and the potential for further mess, he didn't even want to consider it.

So he Alohamora'd open a couple of the older lockers, the ones that nobody had claimed, and eventually found one with a bundle of wrinkled clothing in the bottom, which included a pair of trousers. They were a tad too big, but luckily Blaise hadn't made off with his belt, so Draco fastened it tightly around his waist, just as two very grumpy looking younger students stomped in, and started getting ready for what Draco guessed would be a game of muggle tennis or something similar. He got away as fast as possible.

Finally reaching his dorm, he rushed straight to his room, ignoring Pansy and Blaise snogging in the corner and his own trousers in a pile on the sofa. He had to scrabble with the damned trousers to get even the belt undone, and after several eons, he finally got them open, shoved his boxers down, let his still rock-like cock out of its confinement and shoved both hands up under his shirt to touch his nipples.

And came like a fountain.

By the time he recovered, he was kneeling on the floor at the foot of his bed, his breathing still harsh, his body oddly sore and thoughts of those too-little strips of Harry skin he'd gotten to see swimming dizzily in his head.

He went to have a much needed bath.

The image of that skin stayed in his mind for days. Oddly enough it wasn't as arousing a thought as all the rest had been. Though with the extra mental ammo of Harry's tongue on his nipples meant he was spending as much time 'thinking' as before. But the skin…it was compelling.

He had been lying in the bathtub one evening, a week or so after the incident in the changing room (since which he'd had little interaction with Harry beyond quietly exchanged smiles and greeting nods) thinking about the silky soft skin on Harry's upper arms, when it occurred to him that he had probably bruised that very skin with his grip. And that was when it tipped over into arousing. Draco had jerked himself off so aggressively that he had sloshed most of the contents of the bath out onto the floor, and very nearly hurt his arm.

Oh God! What if he was a sadist? The thing about the hands wasn't so bad, or the lips. Or even the nipples, as evidenced. But surely that was truly weird. He analysed it, picturing Harry's skin, bruised with his hand prints, with his teeth marks, nail marks, oh God!

After wanking again, definitely hurting his arm this time, and emptying another few pints of bathwater onto the floor, he managed to get his head together. There wasn't anything really wrong with it, was there? Surely it was fairly ordinary to want to mark one's lover. If that's what Harry was. And if not, then what the Hell was he? Oh and now he had two things to worry about.

He decided to try not to worry too much. After all, what the hell did he know about sadism? He'd seen the love bites on Blaise's neck, and on the Weasel (oh look, he'd discovered a good way to get rid of unwanted erections, how handy) so it surely couldn't be that big a deal.

With that self-reassurance firmly in mind, he decided to wait for Harry's next move.

It was three days later, during a charms class, that Draco got what he'd been waiting for. He had been one of the first in the classroom, as Professor Flitwick tended to let the NEWTs students go straight in rather than waiting in the corridor, and because the dungeons were a little closer to it than the other dorm rooms. He had seen a few other students enter and settle down, some below and some above him in the stands-style seating, and was beginning to get bored, when Harry walked in, the terrible twosome in tow.

Draco had watched enviously as Harry had found a free row of seats and waved his friends into it, wondering what they had that he didn't. Oh Hell, was he sleeping with the Weasel? Where had that tongue been before it had been on him? But before he could rush from the classroom and scourgify his chest, Harry turned to look up at him, said something quietly to his friends, and jogged up the few steps to Draco's row, sliding into the seat beside him.

"Hi," he said in a hushed tone. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all." Draco replied, abandoning haughty in favour of trying not to sound too smug.

The lesson began then, and Draco was managing to listen more than not, when he felt a light touch on his leg. So Potter was getting affectionate, eh? Very well, he would allow it. Actually, he was kidding himself if he thought he could turn it away, especially when that light touch became a warm palm, pressed to the middle of his thigh.

He glanced out the corner of his eye at Harry's face, which was perfectly impassive, bordering on bored, as he gazed blankly down the rows of seats at the little professor at his lectern. Draco wondered if such gestures of affection came so naturally to the boy next to him, that he really thought nothing of it. He had never really seen Harry be very touchy feely, well, besides the recent examples. And with that bloody Chang girl. But aside from that, hardly at all, even with the terrible twosome. Then the hand rubbed up and down lightly, making the skin on his thigh tingle warmly, and he stopped caring, and joined Harry in gazing unseeingly at the lectern.

It was quite surprising, actually, that there were no people staring at them as they sat there. Surely, even in this place and time, it was fairly odd to see two such famous nemeses sitting cordially together, listening to a lesson. But no, as he looked discretely around the class room, he saw nobody looking at them, whispering about them, or anything else. Even Granger had resisted the urge to stick her nose in, which was just as well, he thought, as Harry's hand eased an inch or so higher up his thigh.

It still wasn't indecently high, about halfway between knee and groin, but it just felt…suggestive. And that thought was enough to make Draco get hard in charms class. He had no dignity left.

Then it squeezed, which he could have dealt with, if only it hadn't done it again, immediately after it had released from the first one, and then again, and again, and again. Flexing gently on his thigh, as if massaging the muscle there, making a sweet, hot sensation slide up and down Draco's leg, from his toes up to his groin, and he was suddenly having difficulty keeping his breathing normal. But he hadn't spent all those torturous months training as a spy for nothing, and he was confident that, if anyone should look at them, they would notice nothing out of the ordinary.

Of course, the fact that this sort of thing seemed to be becoming ordinary, was worrying to say the least.

That gentle, cosy, thrilling massage carried on for long minutes as Flitwick droned on, writing squeakily on the chalk board with his wand and wittering on about quizzes or something. His dick, while still hard, was calming down a little, and he was beginning to think that he could get through this without humiliating himself, picking up a new perversion, or actually doing anything worse than having to walk out of the classroom with a hard-on.

That, of course, was when the hand cupped him. He was dead meat.

It was still doing the squeezy, flexy massaging thing, except now on his cock, fingertips lightly pushing at his balls at every little contraction, and damn but his traitorous tackle was getting all worked up again. He really had absolutely no idea what was going on around him. He was aware of the professor periodically saying something, other voices responding with other things, Granger's arm rhythmically rising and falling, but none of it made any sense whatsoever, nothing penetrated the haze of oh-hell-yes created by that hand.

He was on the verge of just resting his forehead on the desk and letting Harry get on with it, when the professor said something else, and the hand squeezed tight and Draco squeaked. That got people looking at them.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy!" Professor Flitwick said cheerily. "Do you know the answer?"

Draco was stumped for a moment, trying to figure out what the words meant. The hand was still moving on him, far more gently than before, but moving all the same. After a small pause, which probably lasted far longer than he thought, he managed to croak out "Could you please repeat the question?"

The professor smiled kindly at him. "Of course. Which of the charms on the board is the odd one out? Quite a stumper this one, eh? I think if you can't get it, I'll give up and tell all of you." He was still beaming broadly, as if this were all a wonderful game. Draco's brain briefly wondered if Harry had let the teachers in on this plan to drive him nuts, but he squashed it viciously.

"Ah…" He looked at the four charms listed on the board, the letters swimming in front of his eyes for a moment, before starting to make sense. Forcing himself to keep calm, he carefully translated each one. Conjugated the terms used. Visualised using them.

"Ah, is it…the odd one out is the fourth. The rest are sleeping spells, while it is used to move a person from a state of unconsciousness to natural sleep."

"Very well done!" Professor Flitwick cried excitedly. "Take five points for Slytherin, Mister Malfoy. Now, is there anyone who doesn't understand that solution, before we move on?"

Draco let the sounds of questions and answers wash over him once again. The hand was still moving, but slower now, the caresses a little firmer and more purposeful. He was vaguely aware, a few minutes later, of Harry answering a question, and he glanced over at him, to find him still affecting a bored expression and staring ahead. Bastard.

Finally, the charmed clock on the wall above the black board sang it's little 'four o'clock' song, and people began gathering up their bags and books. Draco felt exhausted; he wanted to come so very badly, but he knew full well he couldn't, both because of the location and because Harry didn't seem to want to let him, and his groin was aching now, and he couldn't do a damned thing, and in a moment he'd have to get up and walk-

And then his mental whining was interrupted by a change of motion in the hand; squeezing tighter, moving faster and harder, and Draco knew that the motions of Harry's arm had to be visible above the desk, but still nobody was looking, and it felt so good after all that messing about. He glanced at Harry out the corner of his eye once more, saw him smiling at him, and that was it; he was coming in the charms classroom. It was so powerful it nearly hurt him, and he couldn't quite keep all the noise in, making a loud, rough noise that Harry, God bless the little shit, covered up for him by saying "Gesundheit."

By the time he could look up again, most of the class had cleared out, a good sign, as a spectacle like somebody noticeably having an orgasm in the charms classroom would invariably draw a crowd. The hand gently moved back down his leg again, and gave him a companionable squeeze in about the same region that it had first arrived. And with that, Harry got up, picked up his bag, and left the classroom.

Draco took a minute to collect himself, then slid his text book into his bag, hooked the strap over his shoulder and rose as gracefully as he could to his feet, only to fall straight back into his seat. He collected himself a little more, and finally made it down the aisle and to the front of the classroom and was nearly to the door when Professor Flitwick materialised beside him, and quietly inquired as to his health.

Was he feeling okay? Yes, of course. Was he aware there was a case of 'flu going round? No, but he'd keep an eye out for it. He looked awfully dazed; did he need to see Madame Pomfrey? No, he was sure he was alright. Then he was finally out the door, and away from the classroom. Where. He. Came.

It would probably take a few days to let that sink in.

The corridor was quiet, most of the other students having dispersed to their common rooms for the interval between last class and dinner time, either to do home work or procrastinate. Draco wondered which of the above Harry was doing right then, when a hand reached out from behind a tapestry and grabbed his arm. He went for his wand, but then recognised the battered wristwatch the hand bore, the frayed thread in the buttonhole of the shirt cuff, and allowed Harry to draw him behind the fabric, and into a small alcove, which held a heavy, locked door. There was a little globe of light hanging in the air above their heads, and Draco saw Harry's impish smile for only a moment, before it was pressed to his own mouth.

He allowed himself to enjoy the kiss for a minute or two, before pulling away, intending to chastise him for putting him through that. Unfortunately, the first thing to come out of his mouth was;

"Are you shagging the Weasel?"

Harry stared at him, wide eyed, for a moment, before he gave a gentle laugh, and put his arms loosely around Draco's waist.

"No, I'm not sleeping with Ron, or at least I assume that's who you mean. And I never have. And I doubt I ever will, given how nasty the wrath of Hermione can be. It's actually quite rare that I get attracted to anyone enough to make a move."

With that, Harry put his cheek against Draco's shoulder, and nuzzled in to kiss his neck, in that tingly spot just beneath his ear. In his addled state, it took Draco a moment to notice that he had just been paid quite a complement, and even longer to notice that he had his arms around Harry's shoulders again.

He was trying to think of something nice to say in return, when the tapestry suddenly whipped to one side, revealing Granger, clutching a rumpled piece of parchment in one hand and looking triumphant. The look lasted all of two seconds, until she took in the sight in front of her, and her face went blank. Draco wondered if Harry had ever talked to either of them about…this. He wondered just how bad the wrath of Hermione was.

And suddenly, the whole situation became exponentially worse when a voice yelled down the corridor "Hey, did you find them?" Granger nodded weakly, and Draco found he couldn't move at all, so when the Weasel's ginger head popped into view, he still had his arms wrapped round Harry, and Harry's face still nuzzled into his neck.

Weasley gawped for a moment, and then said "Hey, you-"

"Ron?" Harry said dopily, lifting his head. "When did you get here?" Weasley looked from one of them to the other, rapidly, his gaze finally settling on Harry, of whom he demanded;

"What the Hell did he do to you?" Red face and orange hair was not an attractive combination.

Harry snorted. "Nothing. Well, not really. Not what you're thinking, anyway."

Granger's face finally unfroze, and formed into a rather pleasant, if decidedly wicked, smile, and she grabbed her boyfriend's arm and allowed the tapestry to drop back into place.

"But-" came Weasley's voice, cut off abruptly, and then there were only the sounds of feet retreating down the corridor.

"That was interesting." Harry said, dryly, and he went back to kissing Draco, slow and deep, and Draco didn't have enough presence of mind left to verbalise his disagreement.

It wasn't until he got back to his room that night, lips chafed from kissing and feeling vaguely unsatisfied that Harry's 'nothing really' comment to Weasley still stood, that he realised how misplaced all his fears of the previous days had been.

Screw nail marks. Harry was a sadistic little bastard.

Draco still wasn't sure what precisely was happening between them. Going from enemies to allies was confusing enough. Going from allies to, what? Boyfriends? How dreadful. It was very odd.

Still, there was something pleasant about the little wordless thoughts that travelled through his mind when he saw Harry doing something impressive in classes or on the Quidditch field, when he and the Weasel managed to break up a nasty fight in the entrance hall, or he had a cheerful conversation with one of the merpeople oblivious to the crowd of rubbernecking first years admiring him. The thoughts were warming and rather possessive, and a part of Draco was pleased beyond measure that such an instinct existed in him. To say nothing about whom it was aimed at.

Draco was fairly sure that they weren't 'out', as it were, though obviously the terrible twosome knew. The Weasel had only risked getting near to him once since the incident in the alcove, and that was only to scowl, attempt to threaten him, then blush and stomp off again. Aside from that, nobody seemed to know, or even notice that they'd taken to being around each other.

Not that they overtly went places together, but Harry would turn up in the library a few minutes after Draco had and sit at another table so they were back to back while they chatted quietly. Draco would sit idly in the stands on the Quidditch pitch, broom leaning against the seat next to him, idly casting half-glares at the Gryffindor team as they practised manoeuvres and raced each other, waiting for them to finish, so he and Harry could chase around the pitch together.

In fact, that was when he started to notice the boy for real. He had realised quite some time ago, when Harry had started shedding his childish lankiness and filling out, that he was quite attractive. Seeing him up there though, cutting easily through the air, quick and graceful, made him notice how…desirable Harry had become. He could have sat there and watched all day, just seeing the movements of the other boy's limbs, the smooth arch of his back as he hunched over the stick, the way his hands arced and swept through the air as he reached for his target. Draco wondered how he'd ever managed to play a match all the way through without glazing over watching his opponent.

One day, when he was sitting out there watching, the sun shining brightly and the team milling about in the air after a tiring practice, Harry somehow managed to set himself up to look…perfect. He was just close enough to Draco so that he could make out his features, but not quite so close he could see his expression. The wind blew his hair into spikes and tufts and the light filtering through it turned it all shades of blue and violet. He looked positively angelic. And thus, Draco got a hard on sitting in the Quidditch stands.

After the practise he was still afflicted, and felt awkward about asking Harry for help, so he begged off their usual fly around and fled back to his room. To think. About Harry. So he was a, whatsit, voyeur? Well, he'd certainly enjoyed watching his not-quite-boyfriend fly, on every level. Did that make him sick or something? He seriously hoped not. He'd calmed down about the whole secret perversions business after the incident in the classroom, but still, that was kind of a big one to deal with.

It was going to take a great deal of, ah, thinking.

It was a couple of days later, and he had apologised to Harry for running off, and their subsequent snogging session saved him from having to come up with an excuse better than 'I threw a rod watching you fly and panicked'.

The Slytherin team, if it could be called such a thing, was practising later that afternoon, but unfortunately, Harry could not come and watch them, as they (or more precisely, Pansy) had put a ban on spectators, in order to prevent loss of secrets (or more precisely, loss of dignity). Draco couldn't quite manage to put into words the fact that he was sorry about this; he had been wondering if Harry would even have wanted to come, but when he falteringly (cryptically) asked, Harry just smiled serenely at him and kissed him until it was time for him to set off for the pitch.

In the five minutes that he was late, Pansy had managed to brain their second year keeper with a beater's bat, Terrence was lying on the front row of benches clutching one of Madame Pince's ever-frozen ice packs to his groin, and somebody had irretrievably planted their broom, tail up, in the ground. He began to feel that he should have stayed with Harry.

After two hours, five more minor injuries, three trips to the store shed for fresh brooms and more creative language than Draco had ever had any desire to hear, they finally got off the damned pitch and into the changing rooms. Pansy had stormed off in a huff about half way through the practice, after becoming briefly wedged in one of the goal hoops, and Blaise had left it until now to follow her, undoubtedly to discuss one of their now-legendary rifts.

So once again, it was just Terrence and Draco left in the changing room and, while Draco was muttering irritably to himself in the shower, it became just him. He was vaguely aware of the emptiness of the room behind him, and relaxed a little, the thought that had been nudging at his mind insinuating itself fully into his consciousness; did he remember what had happened the last time he'd been in here on his own? Of course he did, he had been waiting for privacy so he could contemplate it properly, i.e. he could have a 'think' about it.

Feeling himself gradually grow hard, he slid the fingertips of both hands down the sensitive skin on his flanks, over the front of his thighs and down between his legs to caress the skin there. He cupped and gently squeezed his balls in one hand, slowly pressing them together over and over, while with his free hand he reached up and twisted the shower head to spray against his chest, the mild prickle of water hardening his nipples as if it were ice.

"I always wondered what exactly you liked." Came Harry's voice from behind him, and he let go of himself immediately, whirling around to look at him, then whirling back to conceal himself. He turned just his head around to get a glimpse of Harry. The other boy stood next to one of the benches in the middle of the room, his haphazardly folded robes and another, rather larger bundle of some odd fabric, lying on its seat. As Draco watched, he kicked off his shoes, pulled off his tie and, in an enviable feat of dexterity, toed off both of his socks.

This was a fairly shocking development. Harry could see him naked. Harry was, in fact, actively looking at him. Naked. Specifically, at his bum, which felt like it had suddenly expanded to take up most of the room, an utterly ridiculous, embarrassing, intriguing sensation. It occurred to him very suddenly that, surely, it was only right for sort-of-boyfriends to have an interest in one another's bums, and he had a brief moment to regret having never really gotten a good look at Harry's, when, with an impressively speedy whoosh of fabric, Harry was naked in front of him, and even though Draco couldn't see his bum from that angle, the view was none the less enjoyable.

"How long have you been there?" Was all he managed to get out, as Harry stepped up to the shallow ridge of the shower area, the water misting over his spring-pale skin and making it sparkle.

"I came in when that other lad was leaving. Watched for a while. You're gorgeous." Draco was taken aback for a moment, and then slowly turned around, letting his sort-of-boyfriend-but-take-away-the-'sort-of' look at all of him. He was still hard, Harry was too, and he wondered for a moment what it would feel like to embrace him like that, and then his hands were reaching out, grasping Harry's shoulders and drawing him forward, under the cascade of water. Looking was all well and good, but touch was so much better.

Harry reached around Draco's waist, holding him loosely as they kissed, and Draco gasped into Harry's mouth as their cocks pressed together. Harry pulled back a little and smiled at him, almost sultry, his eyes dark through the screen of his glasses, and Draco wondered what spells he'd used on the glass to make them resistant to the water as well as pretty much everything else; he'd seen the things get stamped on before.

Then Harry pulled a hand away from Draco's back, and Draco felt him reach for the shower controls, the jet of water becoming a little hotter, and then changing to a fine mist that tickled the small of his back. Harry drew back a little, his hands sliding off Draco's hips. He stepped back out of the shower and reached for the wand that lay on top of the pile of clothes he had shed. Pointing it at the partition between the shower cubicles, he murmured something quietly, and gave Draco an impish smile as the barrier disappeared.

"Lie down." He said, his tone of voice making it sound like a suggestion rather than an order, but he must have had no doubt that Draco would do what he said. Draco sat down on the floor of the shower, and then lowered himself onto his back on his elbows, stretching his legs into the next stall, feeling extraordinarily naked. The water fell onto his skin pleasantly, gathering in little pools in the hollows of his body, and as Harry walked towards him, it occurred to him with almost frightening clarity that, no matter what had come before, they were about to have sex.

Not groping, not kisses, not games, no matter how nice all that had been; sex. That thought in mind, Draco felt the need to be a little less submissive and shifted his body. He knew he was attractive, and despite his lack of opportunities to gauge people's reactions to him naked, he knew how to make the best of his body, and as he settled into a languid, stretched out position on tiles that were nowhere near as uncomfortable as they should have been, he watched his lover's eyes and saw them glitter. Sex. Definitely.

Harry stood at his feet for a few moments, just gazing down at him, his hair getting damp and slicking itself to his head as his eyes roved up and down Draco's body. Finally, he simply whispered "God" in a voice that made Draco shiver, and lowered himself down to lie beside him, on his side with his arm across Draco's chest, his calf lying between Draco's. Kissing in the soft fall of hot water was dreamily sensual, and Draco let himself relax to the point that he felt like he was going to wash away down the drain without Harry there to keep him in place.

Without breaking the kiss, Harry slid his hand down Draco's chest, rubbing the skin and muscle lightly with his fingertips, tenderly plucking at his nipples and making them ache, and then the hand slid down his belly and clasped around his naked cock. It was heavenly; warm, moist flesh, the tightness of the grip perfect, the slow slow movements up and down his shaft both teasing and infinitely satisfying. He moaned into Harry's mouth and felt the smile against his lips.

Just as Draco was starting to lose it, the hand eased off, and slipped down, cupping and rubbing his balls, like he had been doing when Harry turned up. Harry's upper body shifted, and a glance showed Draco that his lover had propped himself up on his elbow and was looking at him again, his eyes almost entirely black.

"Okay?" Harry whispered. Draco nodded as well as he could with the back of his head resting on the tiles, knowing full well that he was wearing a terribly goofy smile. Harry's fingers, although no longer on his cock, were wonderful; just the right pressure, just the right grip and angle. And then one finger slid down a little, to that quivery little patch beneath his balls, and he let out a yip. Harry's smile at that was radiant.

"Nice?" he asked. Draco nodded again, letting his eyes slide closed, as another fingertip travelled downwards and began to rub in smooth little strokes, up and down. The muscles in his thighs felt shaky and he wondered briefly if they were visibly trembling, before Harry shifted again, and gently bit him on the hip. The next touch from his mouth was on his navel, a soft kiss there, before that wonderful warm tongue slipped into the little indent, and Draco would have squirmed from that, if Harry hadn't chosen that moment to press his fingers to a certain spot between his legs that made Draco's eyes roll back and his thighs fall open, shaking even more.

He moaned when the hand withdrew from his groin, but then it was cupped under his knee, lifting it until his foot was flat on the floor, his knee up in the air, and Harry snaked his hand under Draco's leg and reached up to curl his fingers back around his cock. He could feel Harry's damp hair against the top of his thigh, the soft skin of his upper arm on the underside, and he managed to get his eyes open and take a look at that wonderful sight, just in time for them to snap shut again and roll back in his head, as Harry leaned forward to lick the head of his cock. Draco knew he was moaning out loud now, and he really couldn't give a good God damn.

He had never really had a real blow job before, just a few messy slurps from Pansy to get him hard that one time (and really, shouldn't that have told them both something?) and he suddenly understood all the fuss. It felt so utterly, unbelievably perfect, warm lips, ever so slightly chapped, but softly yielding, pressed around the ridge of the glans, hot tongue flickering sweetly at the tip, and that cosy, tight hand sliding easily on his wet skin. It felt like he was going to die.

Harry's lips pulled away briefly, and Draco got the impression he was being looked at, and made the effort to open his bleary eyes. Harry squeezed his leg between his neck and elbow, an oddly soothing gesture, and then lowered his head again, taking about an inch more this time, making Draco gasp. After that, it seemed a case of just going along for the ride while Harry gradually worked his way down, breathing through his nose so loudly that Draco could hear it over his own racket. In the few glimpses he managed to get of Harry, his lover's eyes were half shut, his cheeks slightly hollowed with suction, rubbing the flat palm of his free hand lazily over his own cock, and the sight made Draco's stomach clench.

As Harry's lips worked their way down, his hand gradually slid off, moving back over Draco's tight, tingling balls and down between his legs. And finally, when he was entirely encased in his lover's hot mouth and those fingertips began that same deep rubbing motion, Draco lost all ability to make sound.

He regained it, suddenly and quite spectacularly, when that mouth pulled back up the length of his cock, sucking hard all the way, and then eased back down again. The sound of his yell was still echoing off the walls when Harry did it again, this time with a little twist of his fingers on that spot, and a burning splash of pleasure washed through Draco's belly, making him whimper pathetically.

Another few of those and Draco could feel his orgasm building, ready to break through him, and wondered in a little detached place in the back of his mind how he had managed to hold it off so long. Then Harry's finger swept further down, sliding along the crack of his backside until it touched a spot that seemed so perfectly, magnificently vulnerable it made Draco want to cry, at the same time that the other fingers did that little pressing twist again, and the mouth plunged down, and that was it. Orgasm was no longer building, it was fully constructed, making him buck against the hard tiles and wail nonsense into the echoing room.

It took him several minutes before he could breathe properly again, more before he managed to lift his head and look at Harry. Smug was the first word that came to his mind then. Smug and ruffled, smiling at Draco with moist red lips, hard cock lying against his belly.

"Good?"

"You can't guess? Good God, you must be daft, man."

"Perhaps I'm just fishing for complements." Harry said, as Draco lay back again and closed his eyes. He was just a bit too disorientated yet to reciprocate, and as it didn't seem that Harry would disappear this time, he felt he could allow himself a minute or two to recover his poise. "Really now?" He responded. "Did you lock the door?"

"After what happened last time? Of course. The first thing I did, in fact. Well, after checking out your naked bum." Draco snorted out a hoarse laugh.

"Seriously though," Harry continued in a tragic tone, sounding like he was moving about. "I'm terribly low on self esteem. I need all the assurance I can get." His tone of voice told Draco he was joking, at least partly.

Draco's legs were still spread out on the floor, and if he had seen himself, he would have been appalled about how dreadfully cheap it made him look, he was sure, but as he felt Harry kneel between his thighs, he really couldn't bring himself to care. He opened his eyes to find Harry's face a few inches above his own, his face haloed by the glimmering fall of water, practically lying on top of Draco, propped on his tensed arms. He looked beautiful, shiny skin and slender muscle and bright, dark eyes.

"Well," Draco said, his voice coming out quieter than expected, "I can say without hesitation that that was the best sexual experience I've ever had with you."

That got him a little smile, warm with an edge of mischief.

"Or in a shower."

The smile got a little wider.

"Or with anyone, actually." He admitted.

That got him kissed, as Harry lowered his bony, heavy body down on top of him, and Draco didn't care that it was hurting his pelvis, or that the water trapped between his back and the floor was becoming unpleasantly cool, because he could feel the stunning heat of Harry's genetalia pressed against his skin and Harry's hard nipples against his chest. He raised his arms, and slid his hands up and down his lover's back, rubbing circles into the flesh beneath his shoulder blades, and adventurously cupping his buttocks, which got him a delightful little sound, breathed right into his mouth.

The first time Harry thrust against his stomach, Draco wondered for an instant if he had done something wrong, before Harry started humping against him in earnest, and Draco looked up into those wide green eyes, and saw an almost vicious gleam of lust there, layered over and around with something he couldn't fathom. After a minute or two, Harry raised himself up on his arms again, pumping his hips a little harder, a little faster, his eyes going hazy, and Draco, feeling vaguely useless, reached up and slid his palms down his lover's chest, rubbing his nipples with the heels of his hands. Harry groaned and tipped his head back, thrusting his chest out.

It was exhilarating.

He slid his hands down a little further, pinching carefully at the hard little buds, trying to emulate what Harry had done to him, and getting a lower, rougher moan for his trouble, followed by a loud cry of 'ah!' when he raised his legs, squeezing his thighs around Harry's hips, and Harry's cock slipped easily down to a better spot in the inner curve of Draco's thigh, chafing against his own nads almost painfully.

The warm water still pattered over them, and Draco reached one hand up to scoop Harry's dripping hair back off his face, and Harry's dark eyes rolled down to look at him, deep and severe with passion. Gradually, never stopping or slowing in his motions, he lowered himself back on top of Draco, then took hold of the hand still buried in his hair by the wrist and pushed it gently to the floor by Draco's head, holding it there loosely.

A little twist of Harry's hips, which wasn't quite enough to get Draco hard again but got the blood flowing in the right direction, seemed to communicate directly to a certain part of Draco's brain, that took charge of lifting his feet off the floor and wrapping both legs around Harry's hips, so tight he could feel the contours of his pelvis, the rocking lunging movements of it, perfectly.

Harry came with a rough gasp, followed by a low moan that rumbled like thunder on the horizon, his eyes gazing deeply into Draco's all the time, until the hot messy-feeling liquid had spread so far across his belly that it was dripping sluggishly off his sides, and the hand gripping his wrist let go. After a minute of very deep, almost wheezy breathing, Harry lifted his head, and gave him a silly smile, delightfully at odds with the intensity of moments ago.

"Ditto." Harry said, and it took Draco a moment to work out what he meant.

Harry rolled off him to one side, and lay there, his back shielding Draco from some of the water spray, staring happily at Draco's face as his hand rubbed soothingly across his tummy. It was wonderful, that languid sensation of satiation, the pleasure of Harry's presence at his side. He still felt rather like he hadn't really done anything, but Harry seemed happy, and Draco supposed that there were many different types of people in the world, some of whom must simply enjoy humping somebody who was lying on the floor and petting them.

It took a minute, and several little nicks from blunt fingernails, for Draco to realise that Harry was rubbing the semen into the skin of his belly, those smooth, easy motions massaging it into his skin like a lotion. He would probably smell like it for ages, even if he bathed. He looked up at Harry's smiling face, and decided that there were worse fates.

When Harry finally deigned to let him up off the floor, they turned to the showers and, by mutual decision, each took a separate spray-head to rinse off under, Draco trying not to let too much water run over his sticky belly. Without bothering to try and get any cleaner, they turned off the showers and Draco watched Harry restore the wall, before they walked side by side into the main part of the room, dried each other off with their towels.

Harry seemed to take great pleasure rubbing his rather rough Gryffindor-red towel through Draco's hair, while Draco urged Harry to put his feet, one after the other, up onto the bench on which Draco sat, so he could dry between his toes. After dressing, grudgingly, they shared a last kiss, before Harry opened the door with the distinct soft pop of a silencing spell being unravelled. He left first, the odd looking piece of fabric draped over his arm, and Draco waited a moment longer before leaving too. He sorely needed to get back to his room and see how strong the smell was.

It was three days later, and Draco's body still felt…fizzy. Tingly. Good. The semen scent had worn off, but he still fancied that he could smell it at times, or perhaps he just had the scent too well memorised. He felt sure he would never forget it.

The only problem now was, surely if he was worried about his sexual proclivities, he should tell Harry. Let the boy know what he was getting into. But then, Harry already seemed to know. It was a knotty problem, certainly. He had grown very fond of Harry over these past few weeks, perhaps longer than that if he was entirely honest, and he truly didn't want to give him any reason to leave.

Actually though, that wasn't the only problem. Draco had heard it said that, once you had lost your virginity, you would find you libido getting more insistent, your body craving sex more than before. After Pansy, it hadn't happened, and Draco had thought that perhaps he had been immune. Now, however, he couldn't stop thinking about sex. It was constant, all day, every day, in his thoughts, in his dreams, in the songs he heard and the books he read. He needed more.

Or perhaps he just needed therapy?

He decided he'd explore the 'more' option first, extensively, just to rule it out. If Harry consented, that was.

And no reason why he shouldn't, surely. He'd enjoyed it the other day, he'd said as much. And yet, the worries remained, lingering in Draco's mind, even more invasive than the scent of come. Was he any good at it? Could he keep up with Harry? Could Harry keep up with him, if his weird kinks kept coming? (Heh, coming, his brain said) It was all very troubling. With most of his problems, he would ship himself off to Professor Snape's office and discuss it with him. On this occasion, however, he rather thought that his beloved teacher's brain would cease to function at the announcement.

He was lying in bed, or rather on the bed, as he had just come back from taking his bath and was still dressed in his bath robe and was reading, or rather looking in the direction of the book he was holding, while he considered the matter. He had seen Harry in the hall at dinner that evening and their eyes had met, smiling at each other across the room. It was nice, a word that Draco usually abhorred, but really, there was no word better suited to describe the continuing feeling of low level happiness, boosted occasionally by joy and anticipation at seeing his lover. Very, very nice.

After an hour or so of completely failing to read, he put the book down on the night table and slid off his bed to shed his bath robe and put on his pyjamas, when an odd noise made him turn. A sort of soft breath sound, and a rustle. Turning slowly, he scanned around the room, glancing over at the bedside table where his wand lay, and judging the distance to it.

His fears were assuaged, however, when Harry appeared in the middle of his room, stepping out of nowhere, that large bolt of strange fabric falling to the floor around his feet. Invisibility cloak; that explained a hell of a lot.

"Evening," Harry said, beaming, innocently. "Hope you don't mind." He waved a hand at the pile of fabric on the floor. He was in bits of his school uniform, just the trousers and shirt really. With the big glasses and the messy hair, it looked rather sweet.

"Not at all." Draco replied. "Though I feel I must ask what exactly you are doing here?" As he spoke, Harry moved across the room and looped his arms around Draco's waist.

"Just thought I'd test out my dexterity by sneaking in here. Not got to let myself get rusty. Are you naked under there?"

"You are truly gifted in the field of non sequiteur. And yes, actually."

"Oh good," Harry replied, and pulled the knot out of the sash on the robe, sliding his hands inside it and pulling Draco to him for a kiss. Draco tried for a moment to get a hand between them to undo Harry's shirt, but after a short time, it seemed so much better to put both his arms around Harry's neck, and so Harry remained clothed, while Draco's robe crept further and further open, until his chest and stomach and very happy cock were pressing skin to fabric against his lover.

After a little while, though, he got sick of the passivity and groped behind him for the table and his wand, eventually closing his fingers on it. "Wha'" Harry murmured as he broke the kiss, and Draco took a moment to study his endearingly slack face before saying the spell that caused Harry's clothes to peel back from his body and drop to the floor.

"Great." Harry responded, and squeezed Draco to him again, making him gasp at the press of his erection into warm flesh, and began awkwardly walking them back towards the bed.

When Draco's calves touched the edge of the mattress he staggered slightly, then sat and let go of Harry for long enough to scoot back up the bed, and across, giving his lover room to lie beside him. They regarded each other for a moment, then both rolled towards each other, holding and kissing for long dreamy minutes.

The skin in the small of Harry's back was thinner than that in the crease between his buttock and thigh, somewhat less lush, but it was also a great deal smoother, softer and Draco, unable to make his mind up, planted one hand firmly in each location and relaxed into the heady pleasantness of a mutual grope.

Harry himself had one hand woven firmly into Draco's hair, the other cupped around his buttock, massaging, fingertips creeping slowly towards…towards-

Even though he'd been expecting it, Draco still let out a rather less than manly-sounding yelp when the pad of Harry's finger touched the small sensitive hole, but he didn't pull away, and after studying his face for a moment, Harry said "Okay with that?"

Draco considered it for a moment, then nodded.

"Okay with more, maybe?"

"Perhaps."

"Slow?"

"Yes."

Harry leaned in and kissed him again, snugging his whole body up close to Draco's, the hand in his hair sliding down to wrap around his shoulders, holding him tight. The fingertip stayed where it was, and gradually it became less intrusive, even comfortable there. He squeezed his hand around Harry's thigh, encouragingly, though he didn't know quite what he was trying to encourage. Harry obviously had some idea though, as he slid his leg forward, sliding his sweat-sheened thigh between Draco's legs, and then upwards, the warmth of his skin touching Draco's balls as the width of his thigh spread Draco's legs a little further apart.

Harry pulled back a little, again, to look at his face and offer him a soothing smile, then nuzzled his face into Draco's neck and began to slowly stroke his finger up and down the crack of Draco's arse, rubbing over the little puckered hole over and over and over-

Draco whimpered and turned his head to press his nose into Harry's thick hair as it slid inside. The sensation was strange, hot and achy and just on the edge of being truly painful in a way that made him want more. Harry kept on dropping gentle little kisses all over his face and mouth, and he made himself relax into it, making the movements of that one finger a little easier.

"Okay?" Harry asked again.

"Yes." Replied Draco, momentarily astonished at how husky his voice sounded. "I…I think it would go easier with-" and almost as soon as he completed the thought, Harry whispered a spell against his cheek, and the finger was joined by a wash of warm, slippery liquid, soothing and pleasant.

"Something like that?"

"Yes. Thanks." Draco replied, and had a moment to wonder if Harry would go any further, before another finger slid gently inside him, and the two twisted slightly, making him flinch with a little shock of unquantifiable sensation. Another little push inside, and then the fingers were withdrawn, and Draco had a few seconds to miss the sensation, before Harry urged him over onto his back, knelt between his legs, slid both fingers back in, and leaned forward to start kissing his way around Draco's neck.

Draco felt he could become used to the whole lying-on-his-back-and-being-mercilessly-shagged idea. Harry's lips were firm and sweet, claiming his skin and making it hard to breathe. The fingers rooting inside him were surprisingly comfortable, warm and wet and moving smoothly. He could feel Harry's erection pressed against the inside of his thigh, and once again shifted his legs to try and hold Harry to him with them, making his lover huff happily against his collar bone.

Then Harry pushed a little harder with his fingers, at the same time that he brushed his thumb against that spot behind his balls, and before his brain even managed to register the feeling as pleasure, Draco's eyes were rolled back in his head, and he was panting desperately for breath.

"Good?" Harry asked, and Draco could tell from the tone that he was smiling that shit-eating grin.

"D't ag'n." was all he managed to say, but luckily Harry managed to translate it, and eased another finger inside him, before touching that little spot once again.

"Ready for a little more?" Harry whispered into his ear, and Draco managed to turn his head and look into Harry's eyes, seeing that same tangled look of lust. He nodded.

Harry shifted, lying with his full weight on top of Draco, pressed groin to groin and chest to chest, until he was staring straight into Draco's eyes.

"You sure? Because I mean it."

Draco's mind let that statement swim around for a moment, and he felt himself smiling broadly. Raising his head and shoulders a little, he craned his neck and very gently licked the thin sheen of sweat off Harry's upper lip. "I'm sure." He replied, and felt Harry's hand slide down between them, as he lifted himself above Draco on one sturdy arm. Draco felt a twinge of nerves, but it faded away completely as that warm hand stroked smoothly over his thigh, sliding under his buttock, soothing him with small, affectionate touches.

Then Harry was pressing closer, pressing in, and it hurt, and it hurt, but…somehow that was better than it should have been. Better than he expected with that little sharp burn of pain, to offset the pleasure when his lover was inside him completely, and he suddenly seemed aware of every taught nerve in his body, every contour of Harry's skin, and Harry let out a whooshing breath against the side of Draco's neck where he had tucked his head, and told him;

"Bloody perfect."

And as Harry began to move, Draco felt he had to agree, because that little spot inside him was really enjoying the attention, and it seemed like it took seconds flat before he was gasping for breath and desperate to come. Harry was pressed fully against him again, one hand holding onto Draco's hip, the other gripping his forearm, pressing it to the bed, and Draco wrapped his free arm around his lover and hung on.

Harry obviously took this as a prompt, because he started to move a little faster, push a little harder, like that time in the showers, and Harry's hand slid around his hip, fingertips stroking the head of his cock, and that was it, that was enough. He was coming, his vision whiting out, his whole body clenching around Harry's, and just before he lost it completely, he heard Harry cry out, felt him shaking and knew he'd come as well. Then there wasn't much he could do but close his eyes and sink into the mattress.

When Draco came to some indeterminable time later, he was a mess. His freshly washed hair was in a tangle on the pillows, his skin was marked with shallow yellow bruises and light scratches and he could feel a spreading patch of sticky, wet warmth between his legs. Harry was lounging beside him, hand spread on Draco's chest and a big grin on his face.

Draco opened his mouth to say something profound and cool, but unfortunately the best he could manage was "Wz vree good."

"Yeah, it was." Harry agreed, serenely, and leaned down to kiss him. As he sat back up, Draco noticed something on his ribs, and reached out to grab Harry's wrist without even thinking about it, pulling it away from Harry's body. There were little red marks on the side of Harry's chest, small oval spots which, when he put his hand over them, fitted Draco's fingertips perfectly.

Within seconds, he was well back on his way to getting hard.

"Uh, you okay?" Harry asked. Thankfully, he was looking at Draco's face, not anywhere else. Draco felt he really didn't need Harry looking at his dick while he was trying to speak.

"Ah, I think I should warn you of a few things."

Harry tensed, only slightly, and cocked his head. "What sort of things?" he asked softly.

"I have, ah, unusual…things. Sexually."

"Well you seem to fancy me, so that must be pretty weird." Harry said grinning, and Draco decided that if Harry hadn't run off screaming in the next ten minutes, he'd really have to make him work on the whole self-deprecating bit.

"No, I mean…kinks. Like your hands." Harry glanced down at his own hand, spread on Draco's chest.

"You like my hands? Nice." He said happily, and Draco felt that he simply wasn't getting the gravity of the situation.

"And your mouth. And you…you looking at me. And the way you held my arm down." That last one was kind of off the cuff, but no less true for it.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Are all of these general, or just me-centric?"

"To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure. It was you that set them off, though."

"Cool." Said Harry, and that seemed to be the end to that discussion, to Draco's relief, because Harry was kissing him again, touching him, and after a while they were both good for another go. Harry climbed on top of Draco and sat on his cock, and he was much better at the whole wiggling around and squeaking thing than Pansy could ever hope to be. And all the while he held Draco's wrists very firmly to the mattress.

In the end, Draco supposed, as he lay in bed next to Harry's peacefully sleeping form, studying the small red bruises on his wrists in the low light, it wasn't so bad to be a little kinky. As long as one had somebody to be kinky with.

And surely there were none better suited than Harry.


	8. Blackberry Jam - Chapter 6

_WW2!Evacuees!Fic This is very story-based and Fluffy. It makes mt heart swell and i just ...needed to save it. Draco and Harry are soo innocent, fight their own attraction and share a bed due to lack of space. Have Fun!_

Not long after, they peeled off the main path and delved into dense woodland, dark shadows giving them cool relief from the spring sunshine beating down over their heads. There was still a good path to follow, which Draco kept them on for several more minutes, until he slowed, and turned them down a trail that look far less used than the others they had been on for the last half hour.

"It might be easiest to walk the last bit," Draco said, squeezing his breaks and hopping off. Harry followed suit, wincing slightly at his sore muscles aching from where they hadn't been used properly during the past several weeks.

"How on Earth did you find this place?" Harry asked as he followed his friend down the winding pathway, walking their bikes by their sides.

Draco wiped his damp forehead with his hand. "It's on the edge of Theo's family's land," he explained. "He brought me here once, but he didn't seem to think it was all that special." He turned and winked at Harry. "I knew you would see its brilliance though."

Harry tried not to beam too obviously with pride. He loved to think Draco knew him well enough like that, and if it was something Draco thought was rather good and that he would like too, when Theo didn't, that was even better.

"Are we trespassing though?" he couldn't help but ask.

Draco shook his head. "Theo's parents said I can come and play around here whenever, and you're with me, so that's fine." They pushed through some thick shrubbery, and Harry had to make sure the spokes of his bike didn't get tangled with any branches. "Besides, their land stretches so far the chances of anyone finding us here are extremely remote."

Harry supposed that was a good enough answer. "Alright then," he said confidently, with a nod.

Draco lead them on for another five minutes, until they rounded the corner and found themselves confronted with a most delightful sight.

It was a small lake, or a large pond, depending on how you looked at it. It was a sort of kidney bean shape, surrounded by trees, and with a small rowboat tethered to a short dock on the side closest to them. On the opposite bank, beyond the few trees by the water's edge, was an open field, its grass lush and green from all the recent rainfall. The lake itself looked full and fresh too, and the small, shallow streams to the left and right that permitted continuous flow were running hurriedly. Harry guessed it was several feet wide, from the dock to the field, and then there was probably thirty or more feet between the streams feeding into and out of the lake.

"Draco," he breathed in awe. "It's…it's simply marvellous, I've never seen anything so beautiful."

He turned to see Draco appraising his reaction most favourably. "I knew you'd like it," he said happily. "Isn't it a brilliant little secret?"

"Shall we take the boat out then?" Harry said eagerly by way of a response. But Draco looked affronted, and Harry might have thought he'd really wounded him if it hadn't been for the crinkle of mirth around his eyes.

"On a day like this?" he scoffed. "After weeks of being cooped up in a classroom looking at the rain, after a sticky bike ride like that? Are you mad, man!"

And then he did something that almost made Harry's heart stop. He lowered his bicycle to the ground, dropped his school bag, and began tugging at his shirt. "What are you doing?" Harry asked uncertainly.

Draco though wasn't perturbed, and just grinned as button after button yielded to his long, nimble fingers, gradually exposing his chest. "Going swimming of course," he cried.

It wasn't as if Harry hadn't seen more of his best friend than was strictly polite over the years – they did share a bathroom after all. But there was something about what was happening, out in the middle of nowhere, that made his skin tingle in an anticipation that he wasn't entirely sure was from wonder or fear.

"Come on!" Draco crowed, and Harry seemed powerless to disobey.

He was still, to a small extent, haunted by his actions two years ago when he had almost ruined their friendship beyond repair and kissed Draco on the lips, lost in a moment of lunacy. It had taken several months for them to recover from his reckless actions, however Draco had not only forgiven him, but promised faithfully that Harry had not disgusted him. They had fallen back into a pattern of careful familiarity entailing a strict list of what kind of touches were acceptable, and when and where they were allowed to be close; this felt like they were crossing a line Harry hadn't even known had existed.

But Draco was so happy.He just wants to go swimming,Harry chided himself, trying to relax. They would horse around for a little while to let off steam, then head home. Nothing inappropriate had to happen.

So he worked his shirt off with more enthusiasm, wanting Draco to know he was excited about the amazing surprise he had orchestrated. "Is the water deep?" he asked.

Draco shrugged, slipping his belt off. "Theo never wanted to swim," he said. "And I felt like a pillock doing it by myself, so we'll have to find out!"

He undid his trousers(like he did every day before going to bed,Harry reminded himself fiercely) and pushed them to the ground, leaving him only in his white skivvies. Harry was wearing the same, as Mrs Figg bought them the same brand of boxer shorts, but Draco's skin was so pale there was hardly a difference between that and the colour of the underwear. For a second he couldn't tear his eyes away from his lean chest, no longer skinny like a boy's but toned like a man's, until he realised that wasdefinitelycrossing a line, and hastily looked down to take off his own shoes and trousers.

His heart was thumping so loudly against his chest he feared Draco must have undoubtedly heard it. But his friend was too preoccupied rushing over to the little dock to sit and swing his legs over the side. "Brr!" he cried dramatically as his feet splashed into the water. "It's a bit chilly!"

Harry kicked off the rest of his clothes, leaving them both only in boxers. He took a deep breath and reminded himself this would be what they would wear if they were at the beach, it was no different, and darted over to sit by Draco's side. "It can't be that cold," he said with false bravado, then inhaled sharply as his feet and calves dropped into the waters with a splash. "Bloody hell!" he yelped, and Draco laughed loudly at him.

"Such a baby," he said with a grin.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Harry resorted to his usual trick when Draco was getting too mouthy, and tickled him instead. Draco jerked and tried to twist away, and before they knew what was happening they were tumbling into the little lake with a shout.

"ARGH!" Harry yelled, thrashing his way back up to the surface, hands grabbing at his face where his glasses were only just hanging on by the crook of one arm. The cold was shocking, but his fright at almost losing his glasses was stronger. "Hang on, hang on," he gasped. The bottom of the lake wasn't that deep, and he was able to place his feet on the mud whilst he carefully removed them altogether from his face. The world became a great deal blurrier, and he fumbled to move back to the edge of the dock to place them up somewhere safe.

"Here," he heard Draco say, and then he was turning with one of Draco's hands on his shoulder, the other gently taking his glasses away. Harry blinked, and was able to make out him placing them on the wooden boards to dry off and stay safe.

"Thanks," he said bashfully.

Draco bobbed back in front him and took his hands, gliding them both into the middle of the pond. "Can you swim by yourself?" he asked.

Harry had been taken to the lido in Hyde Park several times as a boy, and once to the seaside before the war had broken out, so he felt he could traverse these calm waters easily enough. He nodded and let Draco's hands go. "Yes," he said, managing to treat water.

Draco was hopping up and down, his head almost disappearing between each move. "The bottom is only a foot or so down anyway," he said, and Harry ducked down to touch the cold mud with his feet, and realised this was indeed true.

He broke the surface of the water again, and Draco splashed him devilishly. "Race you to the other end!" he cried.

They spent the next half an hour or so by Harry's estimation racing up and down the length of the lake, more concerned with who could dunk the other the most rather than who was actually the fastest, whooping and laughing and splashing and cheering. The water seemed warm in no time, and Harry had gotten used to the shape of the lake's base and edges without his glasses to clearly see, becoming bolder. Bold enough to tackle Draco under the water and drag him down for a second or two, before realising him to splutter back about the surface.

"Got you!" he crowed triumphantly.

"Dirty cheat," Draco shot back, but he was grinning too widely to actually be angry. They calmed after that, lying on the backs and looking up at the blue sky between the tree branches.

Harry felt rejuvenated in a way he'd not really known before, with the water sluicing through his hair and his body bobbing along in the gentle current. "Do you think Theo will let us come back here?" he asked wistfully.

"We don't have to leave yet," Draco chuckled as he drifted past.

"I know," Harry said. "I suppose, I'd like to know we can come back some day, if we want?"

Draco flicked some water to catch his attention, but his face was warm with kindness when Harry turned his head. "We can come back whenever you want," he said. "We can spend all summer swimming if you like. And if it's too cold, we can sit on the boat."

They were drifting on their backs, bellies and toes bare to the sun glinting through the canopy, and Harry smiled back at his best friend as their fingers cautiously intertwined. "I'd like that," he said.

The sound of a dog barking snapped them violently from their reverie, and they both jerked upright again, heads snapping around for the source of the disturbance.

"Quick," Draco giggled, grabbing Harry's hand again and leading him over to the bank by the field. Harry was going to ask what he was up to, to protest they weren't doing anything wrong (he wassurethey weren't) so it didn't matter if they were seen by a dog walker, when he realised that Draco was pulling him through the long, trailing branches of a weeping willow.

Even with his diminished eyesight, Harry could see the branches provided them with a curtain so if anyone did look over to the lake, they wouldn't see anyone trespassing, in their skivvies. Draco giggled again, which set Harry off, but then Draco gave him a hypocritical whispered "Shh!"

Harry nodded, and they clung together, willing the passerby to move along, and not spot their discarded bicycles and clothes, and wonder where their owners were.

Draco kept Harry steady, standing on the lake's bottom with a firm hold on Harry's shoulders. He was so close Harry could see his eyelashes almost perfectly, despite abandoning his glasses on the dock. He groaned quietly, and prayed the dog wouldn't get to curious and come sniffing around their clothes, because he really didn't want anyone stealing his glasses, let alone a dog potentially eating them.

"What?"Draco mouthed.

Harry made circles with his index fingers and thumbs, and held them in front of his eyes. Draco bit his lip as a fresh wave of giggles encompassed him, so Harry poked his chest."Not funny!"he mouthed, but Draco grabbed his finger to stop its prodding, and nodded that he thought it was very funny indeed.

They froze as they heard a woman's voice calling the dog (named 'Biscuit' apparently), but thankfully it seemed they were in the field and away from the boys' belongings. Harry just hoped that Biscuit didn't fancy a swim as well.

He and Draco were smiling at each other as the dog and its owner trundled on, away from their secret hiding place, apparently completely unaware. Harry felt his heart should have slowed down as the danger passed, but the thing was Draco was still holding him, and they were awfully close together.

He felt his heart speeding up again for an entirely different reason.

He expected Draco to let him go, to swim away so they could continue with their games, but instead he let his hands drop under the water. Now he was holding Harry by his waist, and Harry's hands were resting gently at the top of Draco's chest, by his collarbones. They bobbed in the water, and Harry realised they were only a few inches apart.

He wanted to say something, to laugh and break the tension, but Draco was looking at him like his face held the answers to the universe. Involuntarily, Harry's thumb swept over Draco's clavicle, feeling the hollow there and then his hand moved slightly upwards to hold the side of Draco's neck.

Draco's thumbs were rubbing against Harry's ticklish sides, but he didn't flinch away. Instead, he felt himself be pulled a little closer, and the hands slipped across the small of his back.

What are we doing?he panicked.This isn't right, we shouldn't be touching like this!

But how was this different to when they held hands, or embraced in the night? How was it any worse than Draco's new found love of running his fingers through Harry's hair, a habit that Harry felt equally as strongly about when it came to stroking Draco's own baby-soft locks. How was that touching okay, and this wrong?

It didn't feel wrong, it felt electric as slowly, very slowly, the boys let their hands drift carefully over the other's body that they had become so accustomed to through pyjamas over the past five years.

But Harry knew, he knew how badly their friendship had suffered the last time he had become confused and crossed a line. "Draco?" he murmured, his eyes half closed and unable to focus on anything but his pale pink lips. He remembered how it had felt to touch their mouths together, to feel like the whole world had been exquisitely banished, if only for a moment, to find peace and tranquillity like nothing else in his life.

"Harry," Draco whispered back. "Shh."

It felt as inevitable as the dawn as Draco leaned in, and carefully pressed his lips against Harry's.

There was a moment of panic, a realisation of what was happening that was quicker than before, but Harry did not give in to it. Draco had kissedhim,and he was suddenly convinced it was the most glorious thing that had ever happened in the entire history of the British Empire.

He surged forwards, pressing their chests together and running his hands up into Draco's wet hair, moving his mouth to deepen the kiss instinctively. Draco's arms tightened around his back, their bodies slick together, and he stepped them backwards so Draco's back was lying on the gentle muddy incline of the bank.

That meant Harry was now flat on top of him, and he could feelevery inchof him, most importantly, the arousal between his legs.

Harry made a choking sound, unable to believe this was really happening.

"What are we doing?" he rasped, but Draco's hands were in his sopping hair, tugging him back into their kiss.

"Don't," he uttered, urgently. "Don't stop."

Harry lost all connection to any logic in his brain as his mouth gave up on talking and dedicated itself to exploring Draco's with fervour. As their lips moved, tongues slipped through and met, and Harry couldn't help but moan as he hugged Draco tighter to him.

Over the past several months he had become aware of many changes in his body; his voice had dropped, hair had crept over his chest, and strange dreams had meant he'd woken many a morning with a stiffness between his legs that he'd tried his best to hide from Draco until the urges had subsided. But now the stiffness was almost unbearable, made all the more heightened by the fact it was pressed directly against Draco's own erection, heat emanating from them both through the cool waters and the material of their underwear. Harry gave an experimental roll of his hips, rubbing the hard shafts together.

Both boys cried out in a manner that made him extremely glad the dog walker was long gone. Harry wasn't sure what they were doing, but he knew if felt incredible.

Draco's hips gave a responding roll, and Harry jerked in gratification."Draco,"he whined, his fingers tightening in his hair. He was snatching breaths between kisses, his lips throbbing intensely, his skin feeling like it was on fire. Their shoulders were mostly out in the air, but the angle Draco was lying against the bank meant most of them was still submerged, and the water's coolness was a relief as it lapped and splashed around their bodies.

They fumbled until they found a sort of rhythm, undulating together as their groins rubbed back and forth, and soon kissing became impossible as they gasped for air, their breaths ragged."Don't stop,"Draco stuttered."Don't stop, don't stop."

Harry had no intention of stopping, pressure building inside him like he was going to combust or something. He gnashed his teeth, and suddenly Draco was shaking beneath him, his face screwed up in a way Harry had never seen before. He groaned, digging his fingers into Harry's skin, and with a final thrust Harry felt himself explode in a dazzling array of stars in front of his eyes, his whole body shuddering as he seized Draco to him, holding him so tightly it was as if he was afraid to ever let him go.

They panted together for a while as Harry felt his wits slowly come back to him. Alongside his wits gradually crept the dawning realisation of what had just transpired, and then his fears began to form. "Are you alright?" he mumbled into Draco's neck where his face was pressed thanks to their possessive embrace.

At his words though, Draco loosened his grip and did his best to lean back. He was lying against the bank however, so Harry moved apart too, meaning they could look at one another.

"I'm great," Draco breathed, his eyes searching Harry's as he brushed his hair back. "Are you though?"

Harry bit his lip. "I, um," he said evasively. "I liked that."

Draco's face lit up with a gentle smile, and Harry felt his trembling body sag a little in relief. "Me too," he agreed. "But, are youalright?"

Unsure how to answer properly, Harry pulled Draco back into a hug. "I think so," he said, but the truth was his mind was reeling with so many conflicting thoughts.

Draco stroked his hair tenderly. "Tell me what's on your mind?" he asked.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, unsure why tears were now threatening to fall. At least they were already wet, so he hoped they wouldn't necessarily be obvious. "We're not…" he started, trying to find the right words. "We shouldn't…I mean, that seems like something maybe, um, boys don't do together?"

He risked moving a fraction so he could see Draco's face again, and it was filled with nothing but compassion. "Why not?" he enquired gently, still stroking the back of Harry's head.

"Isn't it, I mean the kissing and everything…" He cleared his throat, feeling heat rise into his cheeks. "Isn't it homosexual?"

Draco bit his lip. "I guess so," he agreed.

"And that's illegal," Harry carried on. "It's perverted and wrong."

His voice caught on the last word, and he tried his best to hold back the tears, but he had a feeling he was losing. "Did it feel wrong?" Draco asked, and he was almost relieved to hear his voice quivering.

Harry quickly shook his head, because he wasn't going to lie, not to Draco, not about this. "It was quite possibly one of the best moments of my life," he blurted out in a rush, and he was immensely relieved to see Draco's face blossom into a look of pure delight.

"Mine too," he said, reaching up, and placing a chaste kiss on Harry's lips. "So I argue it wasn't wrong, laws be damned."

Harry studied him for a moment. "That's not what you said before?" he challenged, referencing their brief kiss by the blackberry bush two years ago even though he didn't really want to. Draco didn't stop stroking his hair though.

"I had a lot of time to think about that," he said, his silver eyes wide and earnest. "I knew what I'd been told, but I also knew how I felt. It was nice, Harry," he said, sorrow creeping onto his features. "But I was scared, and you were angry, and I didn't know what to think."

"Me neither," Harry admitted. The water around them had been well churned by their activities, and there were muddy streaks of water running through Draco's blond hair as Harry mimicked his actions and ran his wet hand through it. He stirred his courage, unwilling to be dishonest with Draco, even if it meant risking changing their friendship forever. "But I think I know what I want now," he said with as much sincerity as he could muster.

"And what's that?" Draco whispered.

"You," Harry whispered back, forcing the words from his throat. "Like this…this close, togetherness. The way our bodies exploded like Chinese fireworks, I want that. You make me so happy Draco, when we talk and do things together. I want to share everything with you."

Draco smiled, and Harry was mildly alarmed to see a pearly tear slip down the side of his face. "For someone who claims to be bad with words," Draco chuckled, another tear escaping. "That was pretty good."

Harry smiled, and leaned down to place a sweet, simple kiss on his lips. "You make me better," he confessed. "At everything."

"You make me better too," Draco replied.

They kissed slowly and leisurely for some time, protected by the shelter of the willow tree, but eventually they could no longer ignore the coldness of the water seeping into their bones.

"Perhaps we should lie in the sunshine for a bit?" Harry suggested with a chuckle, and Draco nodded, a shy smile on his plump, reddened lips. Harry would have to learn to be a little gentler with him he reasoned as they swam back into the middle of the lake and washed away the mud that had clung to them.


	9. Like Cinderella, But With Cock

_Harry's hexed so that he will be hard until he has sex with his soulmate...this was a one-shot though was quite long so i only added the sex scene(s). Top!Harry Bottom!Draco..._ _From **Like Cinderella, But with Cock by loveglowsinthedark**_ _Have fun!_

He loves bartenders, Harry decides. Nobody else would serve him an eighth Firewhiskey on ice without even blinking, the way the tall, thin witch with the dozen moving tattoos along her arms and shoulders does.

Harry smiles weakly at her as she swaps his empty glass for a fresh drink, wondering if he ought to have stumbled to the loo first for a quick wank-break before ordering this round.

Drinking, he decides additionally, is infinitely preferable to going onanotherfutile date that would end in mediocre, passionless sex that left him feeling slightly nauseous. Developing a drinking problem is what he should focus on. Fuck soulmates – especially his own.

"Hello, grumpy."

The soft, smooth greeting is in a voice that is easily familiar and startling in its pleasantness.

Harry turns his head, vision swimming slightly. "Malf...oy?" he slurs, blinking in bewilderment at the long, pale form who folds himself onto the stool next to his own.

Harry's cock twitches.

"Potter," Malfoy nods, a single tip of his shiny head, "I didn't know you were a drunk."

"I'm not," Harry replies at once. "Well, not yet anyway." He squints slightly, pushing his glasses up his nose and blinking as Malfoy finally comes into proper focus, his expression one of wry amusement. "What're you—what're you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Malfoy eyes go round, "I didn't realise this place was reserved only for Golden Prats."

Harry rests his head in one hand, forgetting to reply for several seconds as he simply stares at Malfoy with a soft, loopy smile that slowly spreads across his face until he's grinning at him like a stupid goof. Malfoy looks away, taking a few sips of his drink and ignoring him for as a long while before turning back to him with an impatient, "Okay, what? Is it really a problem if I sit here?"

"Absolutely not," Harry is quick to say. "I'd never have thought you'd sit beside me anyway."

"Yeah, you and I both, Potter," Malfoy says, lips quirking slightly. Then, slightly more seriously, "Are you all right? Where's Weasley?"

Harry shrugs. "We do sometimes go out separately, you know?"

"Hard to believe," Malfoy says lightly. "I was under the impression that the Weasel was your personal bodyguard."

"Yeah," Harry bobs his head with a sardonic smirk, "I'm the one who's been known to strut around flanked by bodyguards. Sure."

Malfoy flushes slightly, scowling even as he purses his lips over a smile. "Greg and Vince were myfriends, you arse."

"Sure," Harry repeats, laughing as Malfoy shoves one sharp elbow into his arm.

"Merlin, you really are still an arse," Malfoy says, picking up his tall glass of something clear and lemony, taking a long sip. Harry watches as his throat bobs when he swallows – and then he's simply staring at Malfoy's neck – the long, graceful length of it, the pale, unblemished skin. It's that sort of neck that would only look prettier with half a dozen hickeys dotting it.

Harry's prick jumps again.

"What're you staring at?" Malfoy's stunning blush is back, a touch of pique to his tone as he turns to him once more.

"You," Harry blurts out, before sighing and adjusting the bundle of his work robes in his lap. "Why'd you have to go and get so hot?" he mumbles mournfully into his own drink. "'s really distracting."

When he steals a quick peek, Malfoy is staring at him with his mouth hanging open, looking completely gobsmacked. "Merlin, Potter!" he hisses, colour leaking down his neck and across the little sliver of his collarbones that's visible beneath the collar of his cream button-down, where his tie has been loosened some. "How drunk are you?"

"Drunk," Harry confirms flatly. "Just drunk enough."

"Drunk enough for?" Malfoy's gaze is fixed on the slice of lemon floating around in his glass, but Harry can see how his knuckles are sticking out white and sharp where he's gripping his glass too tightly.

Harry can feel his boner lean hopefully in Malfoy's direction.

"To buy you a drink, maybe," Harry says without thinking.

"I alreadyhavea drink, Potter."

Harry reaches over and backhands the glass out of Malfoy's hand, sending it flying over the bar. Malfoy blinks at him in shock as the tinkle of breaking glass sounds, the barest suggestion of a smile on the corners of his pink mouth. "Drink, Malfoy?"

When Malfoy's fresh glass of gin and tonic is back between his pale, spidery hands, he slants Harry a long, inscrutable look. "Trust you to be an obnoxiously charming drunk."

"You think I'm charming, Malfoy?" Harry's cheek is resting in one hand, his body leaning into Malfoy's personal space with no conscious effort to do so.

"Obnoxiously so," Malfoy responds, carefully not meeting his eyes, voice decidedly breathy. "Is this why you were here alone tonight, Potter?"

"Is what why I was here alone?"

Malfoy smirks, gaze sharp and merciless. "To pull."

"Oh," Harry tilts his head, returning the same sly smile, "I didn't realise you were available to pull."

Malfoy swallows hard enough that Harry actuallyhearshim gulp. "I—I didn't say I was."

"So say you are."

"How d'you know Iam?"

Harry's hand is suddenly on Malfoy's thigh. "I don't," he admits quietly. "I hope you are though." He lets his hand squeeze, very briefly, and enough to draw a soft gasp from Malfoy, before pulling back.

Malfoy breathes steadily, the pause stretching on and on before he says, "Another couple of drinks, and I think I will be."

Malfoy doesn't wear pants, Harry is more than a little pleasantly surprised to find out, an hour later.

He's got Malfoy's crisp black trousers down past his slim, silken thighs, and there's nothing else in between Harry's desperately groping hands and Malfoy's sinfully perfect, deliciously round bum as he grabs two handfuls of the taut, supple flesh andkneads.

Harry's head still swims lightly, the whiskey burning through him with every pump of his furiously thumping heart. His cock is oozing slick, wetting the front of his pants and seeping slowly through his trousers.

Malfoy gasps as Harry's erection stabs his hip. "Fuck, you're already--" He suddenly gasps again, breaking off as Harry pushes his face into his neck and takes a firm mouthful to suck. "I never do this, fuck, but I never do this--" he rants feverishly under his breath, one hand tangling in Harry's hair, the other winding its way between them to close around the painfully straining bulge that is Harry's boner.

Harry groans into the bruise he's sucked, immediately rutting into Malfoy's hand, his whole body burning with sensation. "What don't you do, Malfoy?" he remembers to ask after a second, yanking aside Malfoy's collar some more so he can bite into the soft crook of his neck.

Malfoy whines. "Th-this," he breathes, tugging Harry's cock in a rolling swirl. "Y'know... Let someone get me pissed and then let them snog me in a back alley."

"I'm not just someone," Harry pulls back and says seriously, dark gaze sweeping over Malfoy's flushed cheeks and wet mouth, his pupils round and black within the pale grey irises. "And I haven't snogged you yet."

"So let's fix that," Malfoy whispers, yanking Harry's head forward with the hand still caught in his hair.

Their mouths meet in a ferociously hungry, terribly messy kiss, teeth clacking together too hard, tongues writhing wetly against each other. Harry can taste the zing of Malfoy's drink on his tongue and growls as he winds a hand in Malfoy's blond hair and roughly angles his face into place so he can shove his tongue further in. Malfoy moans, his hand tightening painfully around Harry's erection, making Harry buck in shock and bite down too hard on Malfoy's lip.

Malfoy hisses, a short, sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth, and jerks away, but Harry's hand is only fisting more firmly in his hair, drawing him right back in and kissing him so hard that Malfoy's head slams back into the rough brick wall. Harry can barely evenstandat the moment, his cock practically vibrating with the need for further stimulation. Malfoy is warm and pliant and gorgeous in his arms and Harry feels as though he's slowly unravelling, mind and body.

Whimpering now, Malfoy finally pulls his hand free from between them, choosing instead to carefully angle his own freshly risen cock so it's slotted against Harry's still clothed erection, andgrind.

That by itself is sufficient to make Harry release his mouth and drop his forehead onto Malfoy's shoulder, letting out a rough sound that comes out as more of a sob. Malfoy swivels his hips, repeating the firm grind into Harry's cock and Harryshudders, the pleasure almost too much, too intense.

"Fuck,yes," he grits out, wrapping both arms around Malfoy's waist and squeezing. "Fucking hold on," he growls, and doesn't wait for Malfoy to finish wrapping his arms securely around his shoulders before Disapparating.

He has Malfoy cheek-first against the wall, his trousers pooled around his feet, about three seconds after they land in Harry's front hallway.

"Fuck! Potter, fuck!" Malfoy sounds almost panicked as Harry's finger finds his arsehole, but the way he presses back into his hand doesn't leave room for doubt or pause.

Not that Harry even pauses. His erection is downright painful as he pulls it out, more actual pain than pleasure, and Harry is desperate as he slicks his fingers and swipes them against the soft furl of Malfoy's entrance. "Fuck, please, Malfoy," he coats his erection liberally and lines up, "please fucking let me, I'm so sorry, oh shit, please--"

He's pressing in even before he's finished pleading with him, and Malfoykeens, a high, tremulous note, when the bulging, purpled head of Harry's cock slips into him with an audible pop.

It's nothing like the other encounters Harry's had in the past couple of weeks.

Malfoy's arse pulls him inside, the unbearably tight channel giving way, opening up, as his wildly twitching cock ploughs in. Harry doesn't even have to pull out and start thrusting before he's spilling into Malfoy, gasping out his climax into the neck he'd bruised a few minutes ago.

Malfoy, meanwhile, is howling up at the ceiling, and when Harry frantically reaches around to check, he sags with relief to find that not only is Malfoy still hard, but is now leaking out long dribbles of precome, fucking his fist in frantic little bucks, hips moving as much as feasible within the tight space between Harry and the wall.

"Potter, fuck, please!" he shrieks, as Harry pulls out and shoves back in once, then again, and another time, before rucking up the rumpled cream shirt, grasping his hips and yanking them outwards. His own come slicks the way as he then proceeds to pound into Malfoy, over and over again, huffing out a breathless guffaw as Malfoy scrabbles viciously at the wall and screams, "Merlin's giant testicles!"

"You're into balls, then?" Harry murmurs, releasing Malfoy's prick to reach further below and locate his wildly swinging balls and tug, thrusting steadily into the wet heat of Malfoy's arse, hips pumping so hard that they bounce right off the fleshy softness of his bum. "D'you enjoy having a pair in your mouth, Malfoy?"

Malfoy moans, bracing both hands against the wall and rocking back onto Harry's cock. "I could've—sworn you—came just now, Potter," he says, fighting to breathe as Harry further picks up pace. "Shit, right there—there! Potter, there, don't stop, keep--" he groans helplessly into one arm, "—keep going, Potter!" he manages in a high wheeze.

"Go'ng t'go all night, Malfoy," Harry promises roughly, grabbing his cock once more and pumping swiftly. "All fucking night--" he squeezes his prick under the head as Malfoy emits a garbled shout and starts to come all over his hand, "—until you fucking pass out."

"Potter!" Malfoy's hand closes over Harry's on his prick as Harry continues to massage the final few trickles out of him. "Fuck, you bastard--"

"'s what I'm doing, Malfoy," Harry snarls, finally pulling his hand back, grabbing Malfoy's hips again and fucking Malfoy into the wall until he's coming a second time into his burning hot, pulsating arse.

"Still feel those drinks, Malfoy?" Harry asks after his cock has stopped throbbing, dragging in lungfuls of citrusy air with his face pressed into Malfoy's hair.

"Just about," Malfoy replies weakly.

"Good. I wasn't joking earlier. I'm not nearly done with you."

Having Malfoy in his bed, naked and spread-eagled, is somewhat like becoming aware of himself in the middle of a particularly good dream and then immediately worrying about waking up before it's finished in a satisfactory and fulfilling manner.

The sheer regularity with which Harry has imagined this in the past couple of years is not in any way sufficient to prepare him to deal with it in a composed, suave manner. He devours Malfoy, kissing him and kissing him until he frantically shoves at Harry and pulls away reddened, swollen lips, whimpering unintelligibly up at him, thighs falling open wider as Harry ruts his still erect, dripping wet cock against the inside of one.

"Malfoy," Harry murmurs, nuzzling into his sharp collarbones before running the flat of his tongue up the length of his neck, kissing his jumping Adam's apple and gnawing at his perfect jaw. "Fuck, are you okay? Did I--?"

"'m fine," Malfoy interrupts, twitching as Harry's teeth move further up to graze against the sensitive little cranny below his ear, sighing as his earlobe is then suckled at. "Should've known you'd be like this in bed too."

"Like what?" Harry pulls back when Malfoy doesn't answer, "Like what, Malfoy?"

Malfoy blinks, gaze unfocused. "Like... Like the world might end unless you don't put your whole being into whatever it is that you're doing."

Harry snorts, mouth spreading into a wide grin before he leans back down for another kiss.

This one lasts long enough that Harry loses track of time, slow and scorching, Malfoy's legs wound around his hips, his nails hooked into the dampness of Harry's back; this time when Harry pulls away, Malfoy drags him back in for more.

"Tell me what you want," Harry breathes, finally drawing away long enough to be able to talk. "Tell me how you want to—tell me what you want."

"Did you even lose this?" Malfoy wonders out loud, shifting his leg in a slow rub against Harry's cock. When Harry doesn't answer, Malfoy smirks, rolling them over and slithering down to inspect it more closely.

Harry can feel Malfoy's breath against his cock, quick and warm, as it huffs over his shaft. Malfoy's thumb lazily traces the ridge under the head, before pressing in an unhurried slide down the bulging vein, all the way to his balls. "Wow," Malfoy whispers suddenly, lapping away a little bead of moisture that leaks out, wrapping his hand around and drawing the folds of his foreskin down. "Consider me impressed, Potter."

Malfoy sucks his cock with a practised ease, one hand wrapped firmly around the base, the other playing with his balls, his lips sealed in firm suction as he moves his head in long, controlled bobs.

Harry, relatively less tipsy than he was earlier, who's still struggling to process that he has Malfoy in hisbed, freshly fucked by him,and sucking his cock now, fights not to buck up into his glorious mouth, forcing himself to lie flat and still, legs shifting restlessly on either side of Malfoy. For the first time in days, inweeks, he isn't thinking about the Praestolor de conpar.

Because Malfoy is licking at his balls now, pulling them turn by turn into his mouth and lightly pinching the thin skin between his lips. He's rubbing the smooth, spongy head of Harry's cock around his mouth, down over his chin and up along one cheek, leaving shiny trails of slimy precome that glisten in the moonlight pouring in the from the window.

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy murmurs against the thatch of tight black curls, his hand moving in loose pumps along the shaft.

"God," Harry bucks up wildly into the teasing grip of his hand, "to fuck you again; come up here."

Malfoy obliges willingly enough, smirking into the flat, quivering plane of Harry's belly, tongue running up along the trail of dark hair to his navel, which it then dips into. He applies teeth every now and then on his way up, leaving bright red spots behind, teasing one dark nipple with his tongue incessantly until Harry manhandles him onto him back once more, snarling into his mouth for another loud kiss.

Weak, breathy moans sound as Harry marks Malfoy's throat some more, sinking his teeth in and viciously sucking blood up until his skin stands out in mottled red and purple. Malfoy gasps, arching high, pressing his chest into Harry's mouth as he sucks on tight, pebbled pink nipples, pulling the reddened tip in between his teeth and flicking his tongue over the throbbing nubs until Malfoy is sobbing with each helpless jerk of his body.

He tastes Malfoy's cock, pulling the slender, rosy length into his mouth and sucking until it juts out stiff and wet, as hard and desperate as Harry's own still rampant erection. He caresses Malfoy's arsehole, gleaming wet and winking up at him as he conjures and carefully fingers lube into him.

When Malfoy's arse is drooling lube and spasming open around Harry's thrusting fingers, he crawls over him and lines up, bending Malfoy in half as he slings his knees over his shoulders.

"Ready?" he breathes, reaching down and thumbing himself into place.

Malfoy, flushed and sweaty, eyes slightly crossed, mouth wet and gasping open, says, "You didn't ask the first time, Potter."

"Didn't I? Oops." Harry smiles and presses into Malfoy, slipping in wet and easy, both of them muffling moans of sheer bliss against each other's mouths. When Harry starts a patient, leisurely rut into the greedy clench of his arse, Malfoy throws his head back and lets his eyes fall shut, his breath leaving him in short, sharp bursts.

They move as one, Harry's hips never stopping, never pausing, Malfoy's hands in his hair, and his quiet whines of pleasure keeping Harry going for way longer than he'd ever thought he could go. The sounds they both make are low and desperate, their grip on one another never loosening, but the pace that Harry sets doesn't speed up, doesn't turn demanding.

That is until Malfoy's hands fly up into his own sweat-heavy blond locks, his eyes rolling back into his head, his mouth sagging wide open as he garbles, "Potter, please," bucking up ineffectively under Harry's heated weight.

"Yes," Harry's hips move quicker now, "Fuck, yes, Malfoy--"

The pressure around his cock becomes unendurable as Malfoy bursts into sudden orgasm, his arse clamping vice like around him as he cries out and thrashes, their stomachs sliding together as Malfoy comes in long, endless jets.

"Yes, fuck, Potter, come in me--"

And Harry does; he pounds hard enough into him that the bed crashes into the wall and the mattress bounces, and he fucks an orgasm sospectacularlyintense into Malfoy, that for several seconds, all he sees is white and all he hears is some sort of keening static that he then realises is his own hoarse screaming.

Malfoy's entire body is sweat slippery and trembling under him, his sharp, breathless whimpers cutting into Harry's own rough panting. They're entwined tightly together, all four of Malfoy's limbs coiled tightly around Harry, his face burrowed into the crook of Harry's neck as he hiccups softly.

Harry's insides feel liquefied – his brain especially. He can't even begin to process the enormous fucking fact that he's had sex (twice!) with Draco sodding Malfoy. His back feels sore, his legs stiff and heavy, and eventually, his cock slips out, wet and soft, of Malfoy's arse.

...Wait, what?

"What?!" Harry leaps backwards, flying off the bed so violently that he ends up slamming the back of his head into the wall opposite the bed. Malfoy shrieks, scrambling up, endless arms and legs flailing about wildly, pale hair mussed beyond recognition. He sits up in a kneel, looking around the room as though expecting to be violently attacked, before glaring at Harry with irritated incredulity.

"What?" he snaps. "What the fuck is it? What happened?!"

Harry is staring down at his cock – his cock that's hanging limp and heavy between his slightly sticky thighs. At Malfoy's sharp tone, he looks up, gaping at him in silence until Malfoy makes another sound of vexation.

"Potter, what?!"

"My cock," Harry says blankly, "my cock is soft."

The look of disbelief Malfoy shoots him serves to make Harry snap out of it some – just slightly. "Excuse me?" Malfoy dips his head, looking at Harry as though he's the dumbest, most obtuse half-wit alive. "Your cock is soft?" he repeats, one eyebrow hooking upwards. "Is that a completely unnecessary observation you're sharing with me, or do you genuinely not know how sex works?" When Harry continues to stare with his mouth hanging open, he declares hotly, "You came thrice in the last hour! Of course your stupid, fucking cock is soft! It's finally soft, Merlin!"

"Praestolor de conpar," Harry says dimly, "it's...gone."

"What?" Malfoy asks impatiently, looking more and more frustrated with each passing second. "Potter, what are you--?" he breaks off, sighing and running a hand through his hair, "Shit, I knew there'd be some enormous fucking downside to doing this with you," he mutters irritably. "You're a goddamn basket case."

"No, Malfoy, it's not like--!" Harry hurries forward, placing one knee on the bed and grasping his cock. Excitement and relief of such immense magnitude fill him that he doesn't quite register grasping his cock and half-shouting, "My cock! Look at my soft cock!" and waving the damp length in floppy circles at Malfoy.

Malfoy's lip curls, his cold, totally unimpressed gaze slowly moving up from Harry's flapping cock, to his bright, excited expression. "You really are a fucking freak," he hisses poisonously, "and a total fucking arsehole." Malfoy kicks himself angrily out of Harry's bed, picking up his discarded shirt off the floor while shooting Harry another glare that's pure, venomous fury.

Harry's beaming grin fades a little. "Malfoy, no, wait!" He leaps forward, grabbing Malfoy's arm and drawing him close, giving in to the inexplicable impulse to plant a long, very moist kiss on Malfoy's snarling mouth.

Malfoy emits a squeak of surprise, shoving futilely at Harry before suddenly letting his mouth move along with his. When Harry pulls back, he stares at Harry with a mixture of impatient confusion and curiosity.

"What's your deal, Potter?" he demands suspiciously. Then he glances down at Harry's hand still wrapped around his soft cock, lips twisting into a sneer. "You have a problem," he informs Harry.

"No, I had a problem," Harry says earnestly. "I was hexed, see?Praestolor de conpar."

"That doesn't make any more sense to me than it did the first time you stuttered it at me."

"It wouldn't go down, not until I got sexually involved with my..." Harry trails off, eyes going big and round, before eventually bulging slightly, "...soulmate."

Malfoy makes another sound of irritation. "What?" he presses exasperatedly, before his eyes narrow dangerously, "Who is your soulmate?"

Harry sinks down onto the bed, elbows on his knees, his face in his hands as he lets out a long, tortured groan on a weak chuckle. "Why am I not even surprised? I'm not surprised! Of course it had to be you! This is the fucking parody that my life is!"

There's a long bout of complete silence, and when Harry finally lifts his face out his hands and looks up helplessly, he sees Malfoy standing there, perfectly still, his expression one of controlled panic.

"Wh-what?" he whispers at last, looking very much like he's fervently praying he'd misheard Harry. "What did you just say?"

"We're soulmates," Harry mumbles glumly. "Or...like...perfectly matched for each other or something."

 _Hahahahaha_

 _Check out the story if you like it- it's on archiveofourown- just search it in Google or something. Review if you like this idea of the smut scenes and stuff._


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